


(I Feel Like) The World Got Smaller

by CoralFlowerDaylight (CoralFlower)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Calls The Knights His Children, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Is Good At Chess, Blind Character, Boyfriends to More Powerful Boyfriends, Boys Kissing, Chess As A Team-Building Exercise, Comforting Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Coming Out, Divorce, Enemies to Teammates to People Who Kiss While Playing Chess, Family Bonding, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Good Friend, NaNoWriMo, POV Alternating, Sleep | Remy Sanders Being Chaotic, Solitaire (Card Game), Solitaire (Card Game) As A Team-Building Exercise, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Thanksgiving, Unconventional Team-Building Exercises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 23:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 65,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16565252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoralFlower/pseuds/CoralFlowerDaylight
Summary: When Thomas visits his boyfriend's homophobic family for thanksgiving, Deceit takes control of his body to keep them all in the closet.(A story about accepting yourself and your feelings. POV alternating so all canon sides get development. Oneshot that grew a plot.)There’s a moment of silence as everyone processes the fact that Thomas is in the mindscape with them.And then, from outside, they all hear Thomas’s voice say,“Sandra and Helga are best friends, so Will and I met through them at a movie night. These mashed potatoes are delicious, by the way, Mrs. Roberts.”“Oh, thank you, dear.”“The potatoes are disgusting,” whispers Thomas, horrified.





	1. (Lying) Close To You

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Revolution Lover by Left At London!!! She's a trans woman and she made the "What about nascar!!!" vine, i would die for her. You can listen to her second EP, Transgender Street Legend, [here](https://leftatlondon.bandcamp.com/album/transgender-street-legend-vol-1). It's so FUCKING good oh my god
> 
> Chapter one's title (formerly the title of the whole story) is from [Don't Wanna Miss A Thing by Aerosmith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdVMZzde9r4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7630 words
> 
> Deceit accepts the failure of his initial approach and tries something a little less deceptive. And forcibly taking control of Thomas's body to lie to a homophobe isn't exactly deceptive, it's just a little rude. In his defense, he panicked. It was a perfectly reasonable response.
> 
> [listen i'm a mess so when i said "deceptive" i meant "deceptive towards thomas/the other sides" and when i said "a little rude" i didnt mean rude to the homophobe but rude to thomas. basically the homophobe barely factors into this summary.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this title is HORRIBLE.
> 
> warnings: implied/mentioned sexual content (but nothing graphic), homophobia, censored f-slur, making light of a fictional lgbt hate crime, brief death mention, and cussing.
> 
> the homophobia is brief.
> 
> i put so many headcanons into this i can't even remember what they all were anymore.
> 
> i didn't call sleep remy in this because i dont want to go with a name and then have thomas pick something else. i also like the idea of some of the minor/dark sides not wanting human names because they feel like their aspect encompasses them well enough and is also a valid enough name.
> 
> the side-by-side chess playing is inspired by the same tmohs fic that has been inspiring me since like 1913. everyone say thank you orphan_account who used to have a steven universe icon. i owe my whole writing style to that fic.

_“Just to warn you, my parents are homophobic, so if you don’t want to come over, I understand.”_

_“I still want to spend the break with you. Do they... do they know?”_

_William makes a face._

_“No. I told them I have a girlfriend, actually. So you’ll have to lie your ass off the whole time you’re there, you really don’t have to come--”_

_“Would you have a better time if I was there?”_

_“Yes, but my parents--”_

_“Then I’ll come.”_

* * *

“This was a horrible idea,” Virgil announces into the mindscape as the car pulls into Thomas’s boyfriend’s parents’ driveway. “This was a horrible idea, the worst, this is gonna go so terribly and you’ll get him kicked out and he’ll hate you forever and his parents will call the police and you’ll--”

“Please stop,” Roman says softly, and Virgil stops with his mouth hanging open, taken aback. He’s never heard the other side so subdued. It’s weird. “This is important to him, and to Thomas. And it’s important to me. I’m scared too, but-- we have to do it anyway.”

Virgil shifts uncomfortably on the arm of the couch, staring at the mindscape’s television, which shows what Thomas is seeing.

“May I suggest a potential solution?,” Logan asks, and it takes Virgil a moment to realise he’s actually waiting for a response.

“Sure,” he mumbles.

“Switch places with Patton,” Logan says. “So you can sit by me and tell me the things you’re worrying about as soon as they occur to you, and then I’ll filter through them and help you figure out which possibilities we should prioritise.”

“...Okay,” Virgil says. “I just-- there’s so much to worry about and I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Well, I understand,” Patton says, switching places with Virgil and bouncing on the arm of the couch. “I think it’ll be okay, though. No matter what happens, Thomas and Will will still have each other. He said he wanted Thomas here.”

“You’re probably right,” Virgil says.

Thomas squeezes William’s hand one last time before they get out of the car. They don’t kiss, in case someone looks out the window.

“How much do they know about me,” Thomas murmurs.

“Just that you’re my best friend and your name is Thomas, and you’re a good actor. I don’t talk to them about you at all, it feels weird.”

Thomas nods and doesn’t say anything else.

The mindscape is silent on the way to the door. Virgil fidgets nervously.

William’s parents are nice. They hug him and ask how he’s been, and they ask Thomas how he’s been, and ten minutes later it’s dinner time.

“So, Will, how’s Sandra been? You still going steady?”

Will almost chokes on his milk.

“Um-- She’s great! She’s trying to get a kitten, she’s applied to reslife for permission, so that’ll be exciting.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Roberts says. “Are you dating anyone, Thomas?”

“Yup,” Thomas says without thinking.

Inside the mindscape, Virgil puts his head in his hands.

“What’s her name?”

“Uh...” Thomas draws a blank.

“Helga,” Roman supplies.

“Helga,” Thomas says. “But-- I just call her pumpkin, so I almost said that.” Thomas attempts a laugh. Will snorts. His dad laughs.

“This is fucking awful,” Virgil says. 

“So how did you meet Will?” Will’s mom asks.

Thomas takes a very big bite of turkey and takes his time chewing it while he tries to invent an answer that’s not “at gay club’s movie night.”

“Say you were rescuing a kitten,” Roman suggests.

“No, he’s allergic,” Logan says. “You met at math class.”

“In the shower!” Patton declares.

“This is ridiculous,” Virgil says.

And suddenly something inside the mindscape shifts. The TV screen tints yellow on one side and someone appears in Patton’s lap.

“Thomas?!” he says, surprised, as they both topple off the arm of the couch.

“Ow! What’s-- where-- what’s going on?”

There’s a moment of silence as everyone processes the fact that Thomas is in the mindscape with them.

And then, from outside, they all hear Thomas’s voice say,

“Sandra and Helga are best friends, so we met through them at a movie night. These mashed potatoes are delicious, by the way, Mrs. Roberts.”

“Oh, thank you, dear.”

“The potatoes are disgusting,” whispers Thomas as the answer dawns on him.

“Deceit,” Roman says, horrified. “Oh, no. Oh god oh no oh fuck--”

“Did you hear on the news,” Mr. Roberts says, “about that club in Toronto?”

“No,” Deceit says, tone subdued. William is gripping his fork so hard his knuckles are white.

“Someone shot up a whole nightclub full of *******! Good riddance, I say.”

Mr. Roberts laughs about it.

“Let’s agree to disagree,” Deceit says smoothly, and Mr. Roberts stops laughing and narrows his eyes.

“What? Why?”

“It’s _just_ how I was raised,” Deceit says. “I don’t want to argue, though. Since it’s thanksgiving, let’s just be grateful none of us are... y’know.”

Mr. Roberts leans back, glaring at Thomas.

“I suppose,” he says.

“Like I was raised to think it’s fine and all,” Deceit says, “but I really just think-- well, you know.”

“I know, I know,” says Mr. Roberts, in a better mood again. “Well. You can’t help what your parents are like.”

“I’m just glad Will has you two,” Deceit says. “He’s mentioned you taught him how to fish?”

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Roberts says, and Will relaxes a little bit at the subject change. “Taught him everything he knows, I did.”

“Will never mentioned that,” Thomas says. “How did Deceit know?”

“This-- this is actually going well,” Roman says. 

“Will’s brother told us,” Logan says.

“Oh. I totally forgot about that,” says Thomas.

The rest of dinner is awkward as hell, but Deceit carries them through it with hardly any bumps.

“I can help with the dishes, Mrs. Roberts,” Deceit offers afterwards, and she shakes her head, smiling.

“No, that’s quite alright.”

“Well, I’m exhausted,” Deceit says. “I’m sorry I can’t spend more time with you all, but I might fall asleep right here.”

“Oh! Will, show Thomas the guest room, please.”

“This way,” William says.

It’s upstairs, so they have a little bit of privacy. Will stops outside the door and looks at Deceit in Thomas’s body.

 _If he tries to kiss me, should I do it?_ echoes Deceit’s voice around the mindscape. _I’m definitely not panicking at the thought of it._

“No!” Thomas exclaims. “Don’t kiss him!”

 _I will,_ Deceit assures him.

“That was... weird,” Will says. “You’re usually a much worse liar than that.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” Deceit says. 

“Well... Only four more days.”

Deceit makes a noncommittal sound, and William leans in--

“Wait, I-- I think I might be getting sick,” Deceit says. “If I’m contagious--”

“Oh,” Will says, frowning.

“I really do need to sleep,” Deceit says, faking a yawn. He hugs Will like Thomas does all the time, and then Will’s mom calls from downstairs.

“I have to go.”

“Will,” Deceit says. His voice is thick like something is caught in his throat. “You-- you deserve-- you-- better.”

He looks down at the floor and swallows. That was hard to say, and he really does feel tired now. It takes a lot of his energy to say something that isn’t strictly a lie, and the only reason he was able to say it at all was because he stuck an extra word in there that turned the sentence into ungrammatical nonsense.

“Thank you,” Will says quietly. “I really needed to hear that. I love you, Thomas.”

“Will!”

“Coming!”

Will rushes down the stairs, freeing Deceit from saying anything back.

Deceit collapses onto the bed, not even bothering to get under the covers, and massages his temples.

“Logic,” he murmurs out loud, “Is William’s phone in his pocket?”

He doesn’t want anyone else to see the notification.

“Yes?”

“Okay.”

Deceit unlocks Thomas’s phone and googles “opposite of i hate you,” copies “I love you” to the clipboard, and pastes it into the message box in Thomas’s conversation with Will. He adds “too,” and then waits.

“Send it,” Thomas says quietly, and Deceit sighs.

“I can tell the truth,” he says. 

“Then come back in here and let me send it!” Thomas exclaims.

“Four more days of this,” Deceit murmurs, getting up to shut the door and then laying heavily down on the bed again. “Every time I force my way into the front it doesn’t get easier to control you. And I won’t do it whenever I see fit.”

“You mean you could do this the whole time?” Roman asks. “How does it even-- I’ve never done what you just did! What is happening? Why did you do it?”

“What would have happened if I didn’t?” Deceit asks, rubbing his eyes. “Thomas. You shouldn’t ask the others about orders.”

“Oh, hell,” VIrgil says.

“What does he mean?” Thomas asks. “Orders?”

“We can’t say,” Logan says, frustrated. “We literally can’t say, Deceit.”

“Fuck,” Deceit says. “Gimme... a moment.”

Deceit takes a deep breath and does nothing.

“Try it now,” he says.

“You didn’t even do anything--”

“Well, you see, Thomas,” Patton interrupts Logan cheerfully, “you can order a side to do something, and they’ll have to do it. It takes up quite a lot of mental energy, though, and you’ll be even more exhausted if you order a side to do something that goes against their nature.”

“What.”

“I can’t believe you guys really believed Deceit about that even though he literally said _I have blocked that information off, you won’t be able to tell Thomas about it_ to your faces,” Virgil says.

“Why didn’t you tell him,” Logan asks.

“Why didn’t any of _you_ try?” Virgil snarks. “I thought he’d order me to fade, for your information.”

“Fade?” Thomas asks, confused. Logan’s eyes widen in either shock or concern; Virgil assumes it’s the former.

“Virgil--”

“We are very on-topic,” Deceit says helpfully.

“I still want my body back,” Thomas says. “Now.”

“Thomas,” Deceit says, and then clears his throat. “Excuse my speech impediment. You. Are. A very good-- bad-- good liar. You will need to lie -- you -- fuck this. Do we have a bruise anywhere?”

“Yes, on Thomas’s left knee,” Patton says. “He tripped and fell because he saw a puppy and I got too excited.”

“Why do you need to know?” Logan asks.

Deceit presses down hard on the bruise (the lights in the mindspace flicker from the pain and the other sides flinch), grits his teeth, and hisses,

“Thanks, Morality. Pain makes it possible to talk when I need to. Thomas, you suck at lying, you’ll fuck this up if you’re in control. I’m not going to leave until you’re away from this house unless you force me out. Which you shouldn’t do. These people-- the dad, specifically-- are dangerous. I won’t have you getting literally shot because you’re a sappy disaster gay. Virgil is already working overtime.”

“Deceit,” Thomas says, “if you don’t let me back in control _right now_ , I will order you to.”

Deceit heaves a sigh and presses harder on the bruise.

“You shouldn’t. Logic?”

“I’m thinking,” Logan says quietly. “Let me think.”

“Why do you only use Virgil’s name?” Roman asks suspiciously.

“Are the rest of you proud of what you are?” Deceit asks, because even when he has pain to help him, rhetorical questions are a lot easier to say than the truth. Virgil shifts uncomfortably on the couch. 

“Oh,” Roman says. “I guess that makes sense.”

“I-- this is--” Logan clears his throat. “I think Deceit is right. We shouldn’t use force to solve this. We are already under a lot of stress, and a full-scale power struggle would almost certainly ruin this whole visit. Deceit has handled things well so far. If you want him out, you’ll have to get him to leave on his own.”

“I personally hate both options,” Virgil says. “I don’t trust either of you to handle things well.”

“Then who do you nominate, Virginia Werewoolf?”

“No one,” Virgil says. “No one here is gonna do this well. No matter what we do, everything will suck.”

“In the short term, we should probably sleep,” Logan says. “Thomas--”

“Not gonna happen,” Thomas says. “No point trying, there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Virgil,” Deceit says, and Virgil sighs. “Do you know what I want you to do.”

“I’d rather die in a fire,” Virgil says.

“It’s not up to you,” Deceit says, and then grins, because that was satisfying to say; taken at face value, he’s saying Virgil can’t choose how he dies.

“Fine,” Virgil says. “I’ll try, but he doesn’t like me.”

“Camp out in his room,” Deceit suggests.

“I hate his room,” Virgil says. “Whatever. This sucks.”

He sinks out. 

“Who were you talking about?” Patton asks.

“No one important,” Deceit lies, because he doesn’t feel like pushing on the bruise again; it really hurts when he does.

Moments later, another side rises up from the floor. He’s wearing sunglasses and a black leather jacket and holding a paper coffee cup.

“Who are you,” Logan asks. “Have we met?”

“Thomas, who is this?” Roman says suspiciously. “Why isn’t he saying anything?”

“Who are you?” Thomas asks.

“None of your business,” the new side scoffs. “Literally like, fuck off. I don’t need this right now. I deserve better--”

“Darling,” Deceit says. “I would be quite dissatisfied if you could cooperate for the next four nights.”

“Mmm, what’s in it for me?” says the new side, taking a sip of his coffee and jutting one hip out as he examines his nails, the very picture of boredom.

Deceit presses on the bruise again, and the new side raises an eyebrow as the lights flicker once more.

“Literally anything you want, once I finish being passed out from exhaustion,” he says. “ _Please_ just do it.”

The other side rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” he says. “Gather round, everyone. Virgil too, or whatever Anxiety’s calling himself nowadays.”

Virgil is summoned with a careless jerk of the new guy’s hand.

“Hey--”

“I don’t know _why_ you need a second name when your first one was perfectly fine,” he continues ranting under his breath, “but that’s none of my business. It’s sleep time. Get over here.”

“Wh--”

“I’m Sleep. Line up, losers, and let me do my job, or I’m leaving until Dee gets back.”

Sleep goes to Logan first, placing his hands on the logical side’s cheeks and kissing him full on the lips before he can protest. Logan passes out, and Sleep lowers him onto the couch. 

“Holy FUCK!” Roman shouts. “What!! What the fuck!”

Sleep snaps his fingers, and Roman starts sliding towards him and skids to a stop just in time to avoid a collision. Sleep grabs his face and says,

“This is how it works when I have to _make_ us sleep. I don’t know what the big deal is, I’ve done it before.”

He kisses Roman and drops him on the couch with Logan.

“Oh! My turn!” Patton says. “Like a goodnight kiss!”

“Sure,” Sleep says. “I’m glad one of you is gonna come quietly. Now get over here.”

That leaves Virgil and Thomas eyeing each other.

“Thomas wants to go first,” Virgil says.

“Are you laying down, Dee?” Sleep asks.

Deceit gets up to turn the light off and then lays back down.

“No,” he says.

“Wait!” Thomas says. “Send the text! Please!”

Deceit sighs, and pushes on the bruise long enough to press the send button.

Sleep kisses Thomas and then Virgil, and Deceit shuts his eyes.

* * *

“Hey.”

A whisper, right by Deceit’s ear.

“...Will?”

Will finishes pulling the covers over him and climbs into the bed, and Deceit tenses without meaning to.

 _Guys?_ he says into the mindscape. There’s no response; the others must be asleep. Great.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Will says.

“What time is it?”

“3 AM. Can we talk? Not about anything serious, just... I need something to distract me.”

Deceit thinks it’s bullshit that Will couldn’t just look up ASMR or something, but he can’t say that.

“Sure,” he says. “It’s no problem. I might fall asleep, though.”

That’s a big fat lie; there’s no way he’s gonna get back to sleep after this. Goddammit.

“That’s alright. I just... couldn’t be alone anymore. Do you want to play fortunately-unfortunately?”

“What’s that again?” Deceit asks, just in case Thomas and Will have played it before.

“You must be really tired. You know, where we take turns telling a story and alternate starting the sentence with fortunately and unfortunately?”

“Oh,” Deceit says. “Um. Yeah, I remember now.”

At least the game involves making things up, so he’ll actually be able to play it.

“So do you wanna play?”

“Yeah,” Deceit says, but he really wants to sleep. “Um... you start.”

“Once upon a time... There was a little kid who had no friends.”

“How uplifting,” Deceit says sarcastically. “Um... do I start with fortunately or unfortunately?”

“The premise is negative, so you start with fortunately.”

“Fortunately... fortunately there were a lot of other nice kids at his school.”

“Unfortunately, they all hated him.”

“Why did they hate him?” Deceit asks. “Don’t just say they hated him, give me something to work with.”

“Jeez, okay. Unfortunately they hated him because... because he lied all the time.”

Deceit feels his expression turn completely neutral as he tries not to have an outburst, and says,

“Fortunately, he realised this and decided to stop lying. The end.”

Will laughs.

“Thomaaaas, take it seriously! Um, unfortunately, he realised that he couldn’t stop lying. He asked his parents and they told him that when he was a baby, a witch kissed him and gave him a curse! And the curse was that he couldn’t ever tell the truth, and he couldn’t show who he truly was, so he always had to try to be something different.”

Deceit’s jaw drops.

“Where are you getting this from?” he asks, trying to control his breathing and hoping Virgil doesn’t wake up.

“...I don’t know,” Will says. “I guess I sort of relate to the idea. I’ve been hiding who I am from my parents since basically forever.”

“Oh,” he says. “Hm. Fortunately, the kid realised he could make people laugh sometimes with sarcasm, so he didn’t feel as bad about it.”

“Unfortunately, he hurt people’s feelings a lot too, and he couldn’t even apologise for it.”

“Fortunately... hm. Fortunately, there was another cursed kid at his school, who was cursed to never look on the bright side, and they were friends because the other kid understood that Deceit never said what he meant and liked him anyway.”

“Deceit?”

“Um.” Shit. “Like... couldn’t that be a name?”

“Sure, I guess,” Will says. “Actually, I kind of like it. Sandra’s pretend kitten is gonna be named Deceit now.”

“Oh.”

“Unfortunately, the other kid... let’s call him Angus, like Angst. Angus eventually made friends with the normal kids, who realised they were being silly for ignoring him just because he was pessimistic. And Deceit was left all alone.”

Fuck.

“Fortunately, he wasn’t alone because he had a husband that he married during recess one day and his husband loved him because he knew about the curse and knew to always interpret the opposite of what Deceit said and his husband didn’t like Angus anyway so he wouldn’t leave Deceit to join the popular kids, please just let me have this.”

“Fine,” Will says, laughing. “Gosh, I remember marrying some girl on the playground in kindergarten, that was the weirdest shit ever. Um, anyway... What’s the husbandfriend’s name?”

“I dunno,” Deceit says, because Sleep’s name is Sleep. “You pick?”

“...Um. I can only think of Ratatouille, since I watched it in the car. Remy? Is Remy good?”

“That’s the perfect name,” Deceit says. It’s not. Sleep would throw a fit if he heard.

“Alright. Unfortunately, even though he loved his husbandfriend Remy very much, Deceit still felt lonely, and he still wanted to show the popular kids that he could be cool like them.”

“Fortunately, Deceit had a plan to make them realise how cool he was,” Deceit says.

“Unfortunately it didn’t work.”

“What,” Deceit says, “You can’t--”

“You didn’t tell me what the plan was!” Will says.

“Okay, fortunately he had a plan. Um... there was another popular kid that everyone liked because he was always friendly and kind, and Deceit decided to act like that too, even though he didn’t feel very friendly towards any of them anymore. Especially not Vir-- Angus.”

“Unfortunately, the other kids could tell something was off when he tried to talk to them, even though he tried really hard. And Angus knew that if he was complimenting them, he had to actually mean the opposite, and he told the others that Deceit was lying. So they all still hated him.”

“Fortunately... fuck, I don’t know. Fortunately, Deceit got a chance to prove that his intentions were good even when his words weren’t, and I can’t think of anything, so you decide.”

“Um... I don’t know? How would he... uh... lemme think...”

Will trails off, and Deceit takes a deep, shaky breath. This whole story-game thing has been an emotional roller-coaster, and he doesn’t want to do it anymore.

Ten minutes pass without Will saying anything, and Deceit realises he’s fallen asleep. He’s relieved at first, because he can stop shoehorning his life story into make-believe, but then he gets bored, since he can’t sleep.

He can’t talk to Sleep either, because Sleep isn’t in the common area, and that’s the only area he can talk into now that he’s controlling Thomas’s body. And he gets the feeling that if he tried to wake someone up to go get Sleep for him, everyone would wake up, and he does not want to deal with that.

A few hours later, Thomas wakes up, and Deceit asks him to stay quiet so the others will sleep a little longer.

“Why is Will in the bed?” Thomas asks.

 _He didn’t need help sleeping,_ Deceit says. _Fortunately-unfortunately is the best game ever. I don’t hate it._

“You should wake him up,” Thomas says. “So he can go back to his room.”

_...He doesn’t need more sleep?_

“He probably does, but we can’t risk his parents knowing he was in here. Just wake him up.”

Deceit sighs, and reaches over to shake Will’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he says. “Wake up.”

Will groans and shoves him away at first, but eventually Deceit gets him up and skillfully gets him to realise on his own that he should go back to his room, so that he doesn’t have to wake the others up by pushing on the bruise.

* * *

Later that morning, after breakfast, Mrs. Roberts asks Deceit to give her and her husband a little time alone with their son. He can’t think of any way to argue without causing trouble, so he acquiesces. The mindscape buzzes with panic-- Virgil worries they saw through Deceit’s lies, and Roman hates that they can’t be there for Will during what looked like it would be a difficult conversation.

Will comes out of the dining room ten minutes later, pale and shocked, and everyone assumes the worst. Deceit stands up from the couch without knowing why.

“Well, he doesn’t look injured,” Logan says.

“What’s up,” Deceit asks.

“They-- they’re getting divorced,” Will says. “Dad’s gonna move out in like a month.”

“Wow,” Deceit says. “What do you-- How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “Thomas, I-- fuck. I wish we could--”

“Well, I’ve got an apartment to take a look at,” Mr. Roberts announces, coming out of the dining room. “I might not be back in time for lunch.”

Will pulls Deceit down onto the couch next to him.

“Bye, dad,” he says. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, son. You know I’m proud of you, right? So is your mother. You’ve grown into a fine young man.”

“Thank you,” Will says, but his voice sounds empty.

Mr. Roberts leaves, and Mrs. Roberts comes in and looks at Will for a moment.

“I need to talk to you,” she says. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay,” Will says.

Mrs. Roberts glances at Deceit.

“You might not want Thomas to hear this,” she says. “Considering what was said last night during dinner--”

“I trust Thomas,” Will says. “What do you need to tell me?”

Mrs. Roberts swallows.

“I know you’re-- or I _think_ I know-- William, I abhor your father’s stance on homosexuality. There’s nothing wrong with being gay, or-- or thinking you’re a woman, or anything like that. And I may not get it, and some of it creeps me out, but that doesn’t make it wrong. Really, it doesn’t make it wrong-- I’m not saying it’s inherently creepy, just that-- that I have that reaction to it. But that’s on me. So I promise that if you’re gay, or if you think that you’re a woman, you’ll have my support even if you want to be called Bertha or Olga instead of a pretty, normal name like Shelby, or Anne. And-- and I know you made up Sandra. I know she isn’t real. You said she was older than you at first and then that she was younger than you, and--”

Will’s mouth is hanging open and he’s squeezing Deceit’s hand like a lifeline.

“Slow down,” Deceit says.

Mrs. Roberts takes a deep breath, and then looks down at their hands.

“Oh,” she says.

Will hunches his shoulders.

“Mom,” he says. “Please don’t be--”

“Is he your boyfriend?” she asks.

“No,” Deceit says. “And the age thing was my fault. I thought I knew her birthday, but I was wrong. It made for a very awkward surprise party.”

Mrs. Roberts frowns.

“Oh,” she says. “Well I-- alright. Maybe I was mistaken, I just thought-- I thought I should clear that up.”

Will takes a deep breath.

“Thomas, I don’t want to lie to her,” he says. “Yes, we’re dating. Please don’t tell dad.”

“I won’t,” she says. “...How long--”

“Two years,” Will says.

“I mean, how long have you known you were... gay?”

“Since I was fourteen.”

Mrs. Roberts puts her face in her hands.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I should have done better. You deserved to know I would support you, I shouldn’t have been such a coward.”

Will hesitates. Deceit squeezes his hand.

“It’s... it’s okay, mom. I would have felt worse if you and dad fought because of me. And I had my friends. I’m just-- I didn’t think I’d ever have this support from either of you. It means a lot to me that you’ve spoken up now.”

“I love you,” Mrs. Roberts says, smiling at Will. “And I really am proud of you. Though it does concern me that your boyfriend seems to be such an adept liar.”

“Shit,” Virgil says.

“Deceit, let me out,” Thomas says through gritted teeth. “I have to be there for him. I _have_ to.”

“I’m a horrible liar most of the time,” Deceit says. “I just-- with what’s at stake...”

“Thomas was just trying to help me,” Will says. “Mom, could you-- I need to talk to Thomas about--”

“I’ll give you two some time.”

Will pulls Deceit up the stairs and into his room, and Deceit feels very uncomfortable as soon as the door shuts.

“I need you,” Will whispers, pulling him close, resting his arms on Deceit’s shoulders and leaning down to touch their foreheads together. “Please, I can’t think of a smooth way to say it, but--”

“I can’t,” Deceit says (which is only a lie because he’s not literally unable to), and Will sighs.

“I-- that’s fair,” Will says. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be, I’m just too anxious right now.”

(That one is a lie because he isn’t _just_ too anxious; there’s a lot more reasons he doesn’t want to hook up with Thomas’s boyfriend.)

Will nods, and pulls away, hiding his face from Deceit as he sits on the bed.

“Hey,” Deceit says, biting the cold sore on the inside of Thomas’s cheek (it’s more convenient than the bruise) and trying not to wince. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Will says. “Fuck. There’s so much...”

Deceit feels awkward. He can hear Virgil in the mindspace, worrying incessantly about every single element of the situation, and it’s not helping matters. He bites the cold sore again, and tries not to roll his eyes when Roman screams as the lights flicker.

“You’ll get through it,” he says. The pain fades, but he continues, “We’ll get through it together.”

It won’t be Deceit helping Will cope with the changes. It’ll be Thomas, thank god. Deceit sits by Will on the bed and puts an arm around his shoulders, hoping he’s doing this right, and Will leans into him and rests his head on his shoulder.

 _How am I doing?_ he asks the mindscape.

“You’re doing alright,” Thomas says. “I just-- please let me handle this.”

Deceit considers the question, but doesn’t get very far; Virgil is too loud, and Roman won’t stop pacing.

 _Logic?_ he asks, and Logan clears his throat.

“Deceit should stay in charge. It is likely that you will have to lie again soon, and he has behaved himself so far. Also, William doesn’t seem to notice the difference--”

“You’re acting weird,” Will says. “Are you okay? I’m sorry about my dad.”

“I’m okay,” Deceit says.

“Don’t lie to me, Thomas,” he whispers. He looks up, making eye contact with Deceit, whose breath catches. Their lips are less than two inches apart.

“Let me out,” Thomas says. “Let me out!”

“On the other hand, it probably would be more practical to have someone handling this who could tell the truth,” Logan says.

Deceit bites the cold sore.

“I’m sorry,” he says out loud. “This is stressful. But I’d rather be here than somewhere else. I love you, Will, I want to be here for you.”

“We can leave, if you want,” Will says. “I’ve been thinking-- since I have a job now, I can pay for enough of college without my dad’s help that loans would cover the rest. We can just go. Like, fuck him, right?”

“Will--”

“I shouldn’t have to put up with his shit. I shouldn’t have to! I’m just... I’m tired of it.”

“Don’t do anything impulsive,” Deceit says nervously.

“Oh my god,” Virgil says, “his dad’s gonna hate him and it’s our fault.”

“How is it our fault?” Logan says. “That doesn’t follow.”

“Deceit,” Thomas says. “Deceit, please. Let me-- let me--”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time,” Will says, leaning closer. Deceit feels his face flush. “I want-- This isn’t fair to either of us. I should have cut ties with him a long time ago. He’ll find out eventually, so it’s better if I control the circumstances.”

“Whatever you think is best,” Deceit says. “But don’t do it just because of me--

“I am doing this because of you,” Will says. “Because-- Thomas, you’ve given me the strength to value myself for who I am. I would be too terrified to even consider telling him if it weren’t for you. You’ve changed me, made me better. I owe it to you to do what’s best for me, because you’ve always done what’s best for me too. I was too scared before, but I’m not too scared anymore. And I’m still scared, but I think I can handle it. I think... I think I’m ready to be myself. I’m ready to show him who I really am. And I want you to be there too.”

“ **Deceit** ,” Thomas orders. " **Now. Give me control back.** ”

Deceit lands flat on his back in the center of the mindscape right as Will leans in for a kiss, and he shuts his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off the migraine he’s starting to get. Outside, Thomas’s hands are on Will’s waist as he reciprocates the affection, and Deceit waves a hand, dimming the lights of the mindspace so he can open his eyes.

“Woah!” Patton says. “I didn’t know we could do that!”

“Shh,” Deceit says. “Fuck. Well, I’ll be in almost constant pain until I finally give in to exhaustion, so now would be a good time to clear up any questions you all have. One at a time, please.”

“You had to do extra stuff to tell Will you loved him,” Roman says, and Deceit heaves a sigh. “Does that mean--”

“It’s complicated,” he says. “It’d take too long to explain.”

“How did you take over like that?” Logan asks. “It shouldn’t be possible.”

“It took a hell of a lot of energy,” Deceit says. “Which is why I’m laying down right now. I’ve always kept a lot more energy in reserve than any of you, but I don’t have any of that reserve left right now. I used it all up.”

“Why are you playing nice,” Virgil says. “Why are you--”

“I don’t want to tell the truth on this one,” Deceit says. “But it’s because of you.”

“What does that mean?” Logan asks.

Roman points dramatically at Virgil.

“Betrayal!” he shouts, and Virgil flinches back, hiding in his hoodie to try and look smaller.

“You’re working with them,” Deceit says. “You-- they hated you. But somehow, you-- you-- I want that. I’m jealous. I was trying to contribute, when I took Morality’s form, but it... didn’t work. It was too fake. And I will _never_ stop being proud of my aspect like you have, but it’s still frustrating how difficult it is to convey my purpose when I can’t speak the direct truth most of the time. It’s so hard to communicate. And now Thomas knows about me, and he hates me, and-- I don’t know. I’m trying.”

“Fuck you,” Virgil says. “I have nothing to be proud of, I’m just--”

“Falsehood,” Deceit says firmly, and Logan makes an indignant sound. “Haven’t you all been over this before? You’re useful. You have a purpose here. You should be proud of what you’ve done for Thomas. I would be proud, if I had done anywhere near as much as you.”

“...Oh,” Virgil says. “I-- I disagree. I’m bad for him a lot of the time still.”

“It’s okay to be a work in progress,” Deceit says. “Anyway. Where’s Sleep?”

“Go find him yourself,” Virgil says.

“I can’t,” Deceit admits. “Can’t do mind travel right now. Can’t even get up, probably. Think I’ll fall over if I try.”

“Ugh,” Virgil says. “Fine, I’ll get him.”

* * *

“You look like shit,” Sleep says, leaning over Deceit. Deceit grins.

“Hey, babe,” he says. “Guess what.”

“What.”

“I have a migraine and I love you.”

“Oh,” Sleep says. “Holy shit, thanks. You wanna make out?”

Deceit snorts.

“Sure, why not. I need the rest anyway.”

“Get a room,” Roman says.

“Alright,” Sleep says. “Are you volunteering yours?”

Roman sputters, and Deceit rolls his eyes.

“He’s fucking with you,” he says. “Honey, I’m exhausted.”

Sleep lifts him up with a sappy look on his face, and Deceit feels privileged to see it. He transports them to his room and leans in for a kiss, and his smile is the last thing Deceit sees before he falls asleep.

* * *

When Deceit wakes up again, it’s New Year’s Eve. He gets up, noting the dizziness and lingering headache, and goes over to Sleep’s room to say hi.

“Happy fuckin’ New Year,” Sleep says. “You better get to work on Thomas’s New Year’s resolutions.”

“Fuck,” Deceit says. “I forgot about those. I still have a bit of a headache. I think I’ll go let the others know I’m awake, but then I’m yours for the rest of tonight.”

“Aren’t you gonna take something for your headache?”

“No,” Deceit says. “I want-- there’s some things you deserve to actually hear, and I want to say them.”

Sleep raises an eyebrow and lets his shades slide down his nose to look Deceit in the eye.

“You know I know what you really mean to say, right?

“Yeah,” Deceit says. “I still-- I just want to.”

“...Well, okay. Have fun bothering the others. Especially Anxiety, he’s been too comfortable lately.”

“How so?”

“You know how he used to haunt the common area literally every night whenever Thomas would go to bed?”

“Doesn’t he still do that?”

“He stopped! Now he does other shit, like-- play solitaire with Logic. I mean, what the fuck! It’s solitaire! You’re supposed to play it alone! And they’ll sit and play the same solitaire game side by side taking turns for _hours_. Morality says it’s a team building exercise, to give them a common goal with nothing at stake so Anxiety doesn’t get too wound up, but they’ve taken it way past that and turned it into something disgusting. Every time I see a deck of cards I want to barf. They don’t even play the game anymore, they just set it up and talk. I hate them.”

“Oh.”

“Like, seriously, it’s exhausting, I don’t even have an excuse anymore to conserve my energy now that Anxiety has gotten out of my way. I’ve been running morning to morning for weeks. Any momentum I manage to build during the day gets used up almost every night because Thomas sleeps at a reasonable fucking time now!”

“...You seem a lot less... hyper,” Deceit says, and Sleep hisses like a cat.

“I’m not fucking hyper! This is serious, Dee, can’t you just--”

“I’m sorry,” Deceit says. “But you used to complain about having so much extra energy and not knowing how to spend it. I would’ve thought you’d be happy.”

“I _guess_ I am,” Sleep says, crossing his arms. “It’s just been hard. Without you.”

“I’m here now,” Deceit says. “I’m sorry I slept so long.”

“Just-- don’t do it again. Please. Promise me.”

“I--” Deceit doesn’t want to promise that. “It’s my job. I might have to someday.”

Sleep heaves a sigh.

“I know. I just-- ugh. It’s so fucking boring around here without you.”

“Have you tried talking to people?”

Sleep snorts.

“No. They don’t want me around. And every time Creativity sees me he covers his mouth. Like I’m gonna fucking pounce on him and make out with him. I hate it.”

“I gotta go crash that party now,” Deceit says calmly. “Maybe punch a prince. Who knows.”

“Hurry back,” Sleep says, getting his phone out and opening temple run.

* * *

Deceit considers making a dramatic entrance, but he’s just too exhausted for that, so he just peeks his head around the door and calls out,

“I’m awake! And I have a headache. Do you need the New Year’s resolutions now, or can it wait until after I fuck my boyfriend?”

“You are uncomfortably candid when you’re in pain,” Logan observes from the floor. He and Virgil are playing chess while sitting next to each other.

“I told you guys the New Year’s resolutions are lies,” Virgil grumbles, sacrificing his queen to protect a knight. Logan rolls his eyes, and Deceit gets the feeling this happens quite often. “Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?”

“We-- have we been doing a bad job with that?” Patton asks, and Virgil shakes his head.

“That was just a joke,” he says. “Also, fuck you, Logan. You can win all you want, but you’ll never capture my knights.”

“Protecting the knights is not the objective of the game,” Logan protests. “I don’t see--”

“Now, Logan,” Patton says. “ _Have_ you ever managed to capture one of his knights?”

“...Well, no,” Logan admits. “But that’s just because it hasn’t been advantageous to do so in any game so far. I’m sure I will do so eventually.”

“You won’t,” Virgil says, smirking. “You’re too obsessed with acquiring the center to do anything to them before the middle game, and by the endgame you just checkmate me quickly instead of wasting time going after my knights, since you know I can’t do anything to you with two knights and a king.”

Logan furrows his brow.

“Hm.”

He makes his move.

Virgil grins openly then, and slides a bishop over to capture Logan’s queen.

“What,” Logan says. “What! You-- you can’t--”

“You assumed I was just prioritising my knight, so you didn’t notice I was setting you up to lose your queen,” Virgil says. “It’s sort of cute, how you assume I can’t both be good at chess and ignore the very premise of the game at the same time.”

“Well you-- your face is sort of cute!”

Virgil raises an eyebrow.

“We have the same face,” he says, and Logan flushes.

“I said what I said,” he proclaims. “Onward with the game.”

“You’re doing well, Virgil,” Patton observes. “This is the most even you’ve ever been with Logan this far in a game. You’re practically in the endgame!”

“What can I say,” Virgil says. “When someone threatens my children, I have to fight back.”

Logan scoffs, and Deceit sits down to watch.

“Deceit!” Roman shouts, apparently just now noticing his arrival. “Pull open a cracker with me!”

“A cracker? Is this like the Pocky game? I’d rather not, especially with how rude you are to--”

“Pocky game? What on Earth is that?” Roman interrupts.

“Well, Roman,” Patton begins, “I’m glad you asked. It’s--”

“Don’t you dare tell him about the Pocky game,” says a voice from the door, and Deceit looks up and sees Sleep there, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “He’ll be ten times more insufferable.”

“Don’t kiss me!” Roman shouts, scrambling away from the door to hide behind Patton. “Stay back!”

“I would rather spend eight hours in a bed with Anxiety than kiss you,” Sleep declares, and Roman gasps indignantly.

“Hey!” he says. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re ugly, loser,” Sleep says. “Dee. Let’s go.”

“I’m having fun,” Deceit says.

“Yeah, c’mon-- oh. I forgot you’re telling the truth tonight. Whatever. I guess I’ll stay.”

“I still want to know what the Pocky game is,” Roman says, pouting, and Patton laughs.

“I’ll show you,” he says.

Deceit turns back to the chess game to see Virgil resting his chin on his hand and watching Logan smugly, looking like the cat that got the canary. Logan looks bewildered.

His forces are decimated. He has one bishop left, but Virgil seems to have cornered it with... three knights?

“How do you have that many knights,” Deceit asks.

“I promoted my pawn,” Virgil says. “It’s still your move, Logan.”

“I’m thinking.”

“You can’t save that bishop. You couldn’t win even if you kept it. Just give up.”

Logan heaves a sigh, and moves his king to a space right next to one corner. Virgil takes the bishop, and Logan moves diagonally, staying just out of the corner.

More moves happen, and then Virgil makes a mistake. He moves a knight into the corner that Logan has been dancing around since he lost his bishop, then checks his king with another knight when it moves onto the adjacent square, and hesitates right after taking his hand off the piece.

“You stopped touching it,” Logan says gleefully, moving into the corner to capture the knight. “I can’t believe you promoted your pawn to a third knight and you don’t even know how to checkmate with three of them. You can’t take the move back now. That’s a draw. You can’t force checkmate with two knights. And I finally took one of them!”

Virgil heaves a sigh and puts a hand on Logan’s wrist to stop him when he reaches for the other pieces to start setting the game up again.

“Guess which knight that was,” he says.

“Oh, was it your favourite?” Logan asks sarcastically.

“It was the one that used to be a pawn,” Virgil says, “so you didn’t capture a knight. You captured a pawn. And Logan?” He moves one of his remaining knights. “[Checkmate](https://imgur.com/rFrtsUo.gif).”

Logan’s jaw drops.

“Oh my god,” he says softly. He looks at Virgil.

Virgil starts to say something, but Logan grabs the front of his hoodie and pulls him into a kiss, then pushes him away just as quickly. Virgil is staring at Logan with his mouth hanging open, and Logan is looking away. He seems horrified with himself.

“I apologise,” he says. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“You could do it again, if you wanted,” Virgil says, and Logan flushes an even deeper shade of red.

“Okay, I’m out of here, I did _not_ need to see that. I’m gonna go find the bleach,” Sleep says, standing up and speedwalking out of the room. 

“I’ll be going now too, then,” Deceit says, standing up to follow Sleep at a much more leisurely pace. “Update me on what happened at thanksgiving later.”

* * *

Back in Sleep’s room, Deceit has barely shut the door before Sleep trips him deliberately and catches him in a dip.

“Wait, don’t kiss me,” Deceit says, and Sleep pouts, pulling them back upright.

“Why not?”

Deceit grins roguishly.

“Don’t wanna close my eyes,” he sings, and Sleep lowers his sunglasses for just a moment to fully convey his disappointment. “Don’t wanna fall asleep, ‘cus I’d miss you, babe, and I don’t wanna miss a thing!”

“Okay, anyway--”

“‘Cus even when I dream of you, the sweetest dream will never do--”

“Babe--”

“I’d still miss you, babe, and I don’t wanna miss a thing!”

“You’re a nerd,” Sleep declares, but he’s blushing, and he can’t hide the huge grin on his face.

“Take your shades off tonight?” Deceit asks.

“Dim the lights.”

Deceit dims the lights. Sleep takes his shades off.

A few minutes later, the two of them take other things off too.


	2. I Don't Care (I Love It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7857 words
> 
> Virgil sees Patton making the same mistakes he did, and steps in to prevent it, helping Roman confront a dark side in the process. But what was a mistake for Virgil may not be for Patton, and Patton learns that imitating someone else won't help him understand his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my NaNoWriMo now. I won't be posting it exactly as I write it (I've had this chapter written for a few days, but held it back to proofread and get a head start on the next). Expect the next chapter in a week or so, and the fourth chapter a week after that. If I write a fifth chapter, it will be posted about a week after November ends. I'm not going to break 50,000 words this year, but I'll still keep going, because I'm still on track to beat the word count of my longest multichapter fic so far, and I've already beaten my word count from last year (which was 16k)
> 
> I'm 4.6k words into the next chapter.
> 
> This one is primarily from Patton's POV with a little Virgil thrown in to spice things up.
> 
>  **WARNINGS** : (READ THESE!!) mention of past manipulation/suicide threat by someone Thomas used to know, mention of past sexual harassment, mention of past toxic behaviour by several sides (middle school is hard), AND the beginning of the f-slur (interrupted)
> 
> All the mentions are very brief and I don't think they warrant a rating change, but if you're triggered by brief mentions of that stuff, you can skip this chapter. I'll put a little summary at the beginning of the next chapter so you'll still know what's going on.

Patton feels off. He feels weird and unbalanced, and it’s strange. Like gravity has turned off and now he’s floating with nothing to hold him down anymore.

That makes it sound like a good thing. It’s not. It’s not a good thing at _all_. It feels dangerous, like he has too much power and it’s only a matter of time before he spends it all in one place.

He’s afraid. Virgil picks up on it.

“Hey,” he says. They’re in the kitchen, and it’s four in the morning. Patton snuck down to make some waffles because he couldn’t sleep. He looks up from the waffle iron and smiles.

“Well, hey there, kiddo. What can I do you for?”

Virgil shifts uncomfortably, looking around to make sure they’re alone, then says,

“Something’s off.”

Patton lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing.

“You feel it too,” he says. “That’s good, I thought I was the only one.”

“Why are you scared?” Virgil asks. It’s sort of a non sequitur. Patton takes a deep breath, surprised.

“Scared? I don’t know what you mean--”

Virgil raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, and Patton sighs.

“How did you know?” he asks.

Virgil shrugs.

“It’s my job.”

Patton watches him for a moment, and then opens the waffle iron, lifting the waffle out with a fork and putting it on a plate.

“Would you like a waffle?” he offers, and Virgil nods, still watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Patton pours batter into the waffle iron and shuts it, the flips it around, and turns to see Virgil still waiting. He sighs. He isn’t sure how to say this.

“Well... I feel weird. Everything’s weird. Like I have no limits. I’ll be honest, it’s pretty gosh darn unsettling,” Patton says with a smile, and-- he’s like this sometimes, expressions not matching the emotions of what he’s saying. Virgil just nods.

“I think I get that, yeah. It’s like when Thomas was in middle school.”

Patton cocks his head to the side; Virgil only showed himself to them recently, and Patton hasn’t heard anything about what he used to do before. He’s very interested to learn.

“Really? What do you mean by that, Virgil?”

Virgil sighs, and rolls his eyes.

“It’s dumb. But... everything was so chaotic. Logic was too nervous to speak up much, and I... Deceit and I made him that way. I was proud of it. I had so much power...”

Virgil trails off, staring into space, and Patton messes with the sleeves of his cat hoodie, unnerved. But suddenly Virgil’s eyes snap to his, and his gaze is sharp.

“It was awful. I pretended to be satisfied with it, like I was proud of the sway I held over all of you without you even knowing something was wrong, that it wasn’t normal, but I think... I was secretly relieved when Logan started getting his spine back. Because having that much energy, and spending it at the same rate you gain it, tears you apart. It makes you less of a person. And you get better at your job, but Thomas suffers.”

“...Oh,” Patton says.

“So now you know,” Virgil mumbles, shifting uncomfortably, looking like he wants to run away. “I was worst to Princey, probably. He was so easy to scare, and it made me feel powerful, like I was doing something with myself. Like I was useful. But I wasn’t. I-- I told myself I was just... protecting him. And protecting Thomas, from ridicule, but really I was just... making him hurt himself. And I didn’t want to believe I was the bad guy, so... Deceit made sure I didn’t realise it, y’know? Because that’s how he works. He can only deceive us in the long term if we actually want to be deceived, and I wanted it desperately. Patton, I don’t know how that would manifest in you now. But if you feel very powerful all of a sudden, the only thing that changed is Deceit being sick or asleep or whatever’s going on with him. It’s probably because of that.”

Patton hums.

“Well that’s interesting. How do--”

The waffle iron beeps, and Patton opens it and lifts the waffle onto another plate with a fork. He hands Virgil the fresher one, and takes the slightly cooled one for himself, and he feels good about doing that small kindness for him. It makes him feel a little better, less unsettled.

“Thank you,” Virgil says. “Patton, could you describe to me how you’re feeling? I want to compare it with how I felt.”

“I feel... restless. Like I was doing something very very important, and suddenly it doesn’t need to be done anymore.”

Virgil opens his mouth to say something, but hesitates.

“What is it, Verge?” Patton asks gently. “I could really use your advice. You know a lot more about this than I do, and I’m not sure what to do here.”

Virgil sits for a long time, just thinking, and Patton doesn’t press for more information, because he cares a whole lot about Virgil’s boundaries and doesn’t want to make him feel pressured. Patton does vitally need the information so he can avoid going off the rails like Virgil said he did, but even if Virgil decides not to tell him, he’ll let him be.

It’s hard work being perfectly patient for so long, but as the seconds stretch out into minutes, Patton feels marginally better, marginally less restless. Like he’s working off some of the energy that’s rattling around inside him, demanding to be spent. It makes him think that probably, he could figure it out on his own. So he won’t ask Virgil about it again, if he doesn’t want to say.

“When I...” Virgil eventually begins, voice raw and quiet. He licks his lips, still thinking. “Patton... You have to understand... there are dark sides and light sides. And they oppose each other. Each dark side is weak to one light side, and vice versa. That’s the dynamic we’re dealing with. Opposition. A binary.”

Patton makes a face at the word binary; ever since he learned more about gender, he’s been irrationally opposed to the idea of any system only having two opposite parts, or having an even number of parts that oppose each other in pairs. He doesn’t want to see the world in black and white. It would be like if, instead of him, Logan, and Roman, Thomas just had him and Logan. Or him, Logan, Roman, and Virgil, which he supposes is what Thomas _does_ have-- Logan and him oppose each other, and Virgil and Roman do the same. That explanation of it, that simple arrangement of the four main traits doesn’t sit well with Patton, and he isn’t sure why.

“Alright,” he says. “So Logan opposes--”

“Logan opposes me,” Virgil says, nodding, and Patton blinks. That wasn’t what he was expecting.. “Hm-- I guess it’s more like a shadowy triangle than a binary. That was a poor simplification. Logan opposes me. He weakens me, keeps me in check.”

Patton frowns.

“But you said that the light sides have _dark_ sides as weaknesses,” he says. “So shouldn’t yours be, I don’t know, Deceit? Someone other than--”

Virgil breathes in shakily, and the sound of it makes Patton stop, concerned.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “It’s okay, Verge, I can figure this energy thing out--”

“Stop,” Virgil says. “Just you saying that means... you do need to know. And that’s more important than-- than me worrying about what you think of me, or anything else. Patton. I’m a dark side.”

Patton feels his jaw drop, and then sees Virgil’s face fall. He hurries to compartmentalise, locking the shock away for later in order to present calmly in the face of the revelation.

“Alright,” Patton says. “So... you oppose Logan-- or Logan opposes you...”

“And I oppose Creativity,” Anxiety says. “You oppose Deceit.”

“Who opposes me?” Patton asks, painfully curious.

“I can’t say,” Virgil says. “I mean I don’t want to. But-- back to your question. Logan keeps me in check. Or, he does now. When a dark side’s weakness is gone, it’s... a massive power boost. You don’t have to worry about anyone fuckin’ stopping you, and you can screw over your victim as much as you want. That’s-- that’s a way to get power, as a dark side. By hurting the one you oppose. I think it’s the opposite for light sides, or I’m pretty sure. You guys can get power by resisting the dark side that you’re weak to. So if they disappear, you have one less power source. And you guys have to spend energy weakening the dark side that you’re supposed to keep in check--”

“So with Deceit gone, I have too much energy,” Patton finishes. “Oh.”

“And you still have to resist Ap-- the other dark side. And you get power from that. So you’re constantly building up power without spending it. And that’s really bad.”

“I don’t see how,” Patton says. “I mean-- I’m good, right? I can’t-- mess things up like... like you did...” Patton sees the look on Virgil’s face. “Sorry.”

“You told me less than an hour ago that this scared you,” Virgil says, and-- that’s weird-- _he_ sounds scared.

“But I don’t see why I should be,” Patton says, confused. “I mean, this is good, right? I can make sure Thomas _always_ does the right thing now, and I can help him help people, and--”

“Yeah, you can make him spend all his energy on others,” Virgil says viciously, “and shove Logic out of the forefront like you and Roman both did together in middle school. And then with Logan weaker, I’ll start building up power and needing to use it, and then you and me can work together to make sure Thomas _knows_ he doesn’t matter-- his friends do. And that his friends _hate_ him, so he should never bother them with his problems--”

“Thomas’s friends don’t hate him,” Patton protests.

“Of course they do,” Virgil challenges. “He isn’t doing _enough_ for them. He should stop sleeping. He should stop _eating_. Every bite he takes, every resource he uses, every square inch of space he occupies is stolen from someone else. Someone who needs it more.”

“I would never tell Thomas those things!” Patton says. He feels like he might cry. Virgil is being-- horrible. He’s never seen him like this. And over all the harshness, the this-is-how-it-is matter-of-factness with which he speaks, is the fear, glimmering in his eyes like something sharp and dangerous.

“You would believe them,” Virgil says. “You believed them in middle school. Don’t you remember?”

“No,” Patton says weakly. “Are you sure that was me? I don’t remember--”

“Deceit is asleep,” Virgil says. “That means you can remember now. So try to remember. Because Patton, you _did_ tell him those things. You told him worse. You told him he had to stay up and talk to someone who was threatening suicide _and blaming him for it_ or he would be an awful, irredeemable person, and you told him he had to always, _always_ help others before himself, you told him _oh, don’t you feel guilty? it feels horrible to_ want _someone like this girl wants you and know you can’t have them, and you don’t want to do that to someone else, do you? just help her out once, and then-- then--_ but there is no _then_ , Patton, there’s no end, people just want more and more and _more_ and you _must_ tell them no sometimes! So I’m fucking telling you no, this isn’t fucking good! This is horrible!”

Patton bites his lip, trying not to cry, because he doesn’t _want_ to remember any of it. But it’s true. He knows that now. He did do those things, because he thought they were right, and he wanted to help Thomas be a good person. He was just trying to help.

But he didn’t help.

“Virgil, I-- I was just trying to help, back then, I--”

“Patton. Patton, I love you and I admire you and I know you care about Thomas, but you weaken Deceit. You weaken _self-preservation_. Without him fighting back and resisting, we will spiral. Logic will lose energy because he can’t _resist_ someone who’s asleep and not even trying to screw with him, and I’ll gain energy because Logan will be weaker, and together, you and me, who don’t gain anything from hurting each other, will gang up on Thomas. And we will both mean well. And we will both be trying to do the right thing. I’m not fucking doing this again, Patton. I _like_ being-- dare I say it-- healthy. I want to keep doing it. You can’t fucking ruin this for me! You can’t hurt Thomas like this. You’re being _selfish_ , trying to act like it’s fine to fuck up the whole goddamn balance of literally everything just because you have the _power_ to. Fuck you.”

Patton gapes at Virgil in shock, feeling tears pool in his eyes, and-- he’s scared again. He’s scared of the power he has, and he blinks. The tears spill down his face and don’t stop coming, so he curls in on himself, untying his cat hoodie and putting it on. Virgil tentatively hugs him, and he cries harder.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, and for saying all those things. But it’s true. God, that was scary. I thought-- I was really scared. I feel like that was overkill. But you weren’t listening, so I... I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” Patton says. “I didn’t mean-- I wasn’t trying to scare you. I promise I won’t make Thomas do whatever I want to do. I’m not-- I’m not gonna forget again, about how bad it is if I do that. I promise.”

He dissolves into sobs again, and Virgil holds him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says. “I wish I could make it stop hurting. But that wouldn’t solve anything.”

Patton feels positively horrible, like his guts are throwing a dance party and trying to escape, and he’s just so damn _scared_. He doesn’t really know what’s going on, it makes him want to just say fuck it, screw it, who needs feelings! Feelings are for losers. But-- but if that’s true, Patton is the biggest loser in the world. He’s not going to succumb to indifference.

That decision makes it worse, turning the chaotic buzzing in his brain into a muffled roar. Patton tries breathing exercises, he tries thinking about kittens, he tries distracting himself-- none of it works. He’s scared.

It’s the fear that calms him, in the end. The fear, and the awareness that the others will be up and moving soon. Because if he’s afraid, he’s thinking clearly about what the consequences could be. He squeezes his sobs into smaller and smaller spaces until they aren’t even there, and then looks up at Virgil, head spinning and rattling like something loud that spins. He can’t think of a good simile.

“You don’t get anything from hurting me,” he says. It sounds like a croak. “So you said all that for another reason. Not because you wanted to hurt me.”

Virgil nods.

“Why?”

“You needed to know,” Virgil says. “I want to help you.”

“I don’t deserve help,” Patton says, and that makes the buzzing in his head abate just the tiniest bit. “Really, it’s fine, don’t worry about me. I’m okay.”

The buzzing gets a little quieter, and when Patton fakes a smile, it drops even more. The slow crawl towards quiet is addicting.

“You’re saying that because it uses some of the energy up,” Virgil says. “Acting the way you’re meant to makes you feel less restless. But if you keep all of that self-directed, Thomas will still suffer.”

Abruptly, the buzzing gets worse again, and Patton puts his head in his hands.

“But mostly, I wanted you to know because I want to help you keep track of what you’re supposed to be doing. And-- I couldn’t just not say anything. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Patton says. The buzzing gets a tiny bit quieter. “You’re perfect, you could never do anything wrong.”

“You don’t have to diminish yourself to help others,” Virgil says. “You’re helping a lot just by holding all that energy and not using it. That’s incredibly helpful. You’re enduring that pain for us, and for Thomas, and that’s _enough_. You don’t need to go further. Don’t pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

...The energy is still there. It’s still buzzing, still rattling. But it’s like he’s put on noise-cancelling headphones. It still hurts-- it hurts _so much_ \-- but he can think around it. He can focus on other things.

“Did that help?” Virgil asks anxiously.

“Yes,” Patton says. He sniffles.

Roman comes in. He sees that Patton has been crying, and stands beside him, facing down Virgil like this is a confrontation.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Deceit’s asleep,” Patton mumbles. “So I-- I have a lot more energy than usual. Since I don’t have to keep him in check right now.”

Roman frowns.

“But that’s a good thing,” he says.

Patton smiles and looks at him hopefully.

“You really think so?” he says.

“No!” Virgil says, and Roman immediately turns back towards him, squaring his shoulders. “Patton, you promised. Please--”

“That’s enough out of you,” Roman says. “Patton. He made you cry.”

Patton looks between the two of them, panic building in his chest, and makes a sobbing sound, unsure what to do.

“I made myself cry,” he says. “And Virgil is right. It’s bad. You-- you’re just picking on him because it makes you feel powerful.”

Roman narrows his eyes, staring Patton down coldly, and-- oh. That hurts. Patton really doesn’t like Roman looking at him that way.

“Why shouldn’t I pick on him,” Roman says. “He deserves it. He made you _cry_!”

Virgil flinches. Patton feels torn, stretched between two huge forces both pulling away from each other.

“Now don’t start trouble, Roman,” he pleads. It feels wrong to ask for anything. “Something’s happening, and it’s scary, and Virgil knows a whole lot more about it than me. And I made _myself_ cry!”

“Roman,” Virgil says. He makes eye contact and doesn’t break it. “I owe you an apology.”

Roman’s eyebrows shoot up, and he crosses his arms.

“Really, now?”

“Yes,” Virgil says. “It’s a very late apology, but I was just awful to you in middle school. And it was because Logic was weaker back then. I had more room to manoeuvre, and I felt like I had to _use_ all the energy I had. It was bad. I picked on you a lot. It was unnecessary. It made things pretty awful for you and for Thomas, and I’m not going to do it again. I’m trying to help Patton keep from doing the same thing.”

“Patton wouldn’t do anything like what you did to Thomas back then--”

Patton sniffles.

“I would, though,” he says. “I helped Virgil back then, too. I need-- I need a way to use this energy without throwing everything off-balance.”

“But he’s a dark side!” Roman exclaims. “I know we were getting along, and I wasn’t going to break that truce, but Patton-- how did he convince you that you’re a bad person? How did you _let_ him convince you?”

“Roman,” Patton says, a little sadly. He thought Roman already knew this. “Being good doesn’t mean I can’t do wrong. It doesn’t mean you can’t do wrong, and it doesn’t mean Logan can’t either. Being good means admitting that I have the ability to do terribly bad things, and then choosing not to do them. Because if I-- if everything I do is good by default, what’s the point? If I act like I can’t do anything evil, I’ll end up doing something evil and thinking it’s right.”

Roman makes a face.

“I guess,” he allows. “Hm, where’s Logan at, anyway?”

Virgil pales, and Patton looks at him askance.

“Shit,” he says. “Um. He’s probably running low on energy. Deceit opposes him, so--”

“Here’s an idea,” Patton interrupts. “If Logan needs energy can’t I just give him some of mine?”

The buzzing in Patton’s head stops for a moment, then starts up again, much more muted, and he smiles shakily, but it’s a real smile.

“...Huh,” Virgil says thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s that easy. Sorry.”

“Darn,” Patton says, as it gets worse again. “Urgh.”

“Is there enough waffle batter left for me?” Roman asks.

“You betcha! Oh, and Virgil,” Patton says. “I know you were scared. But if that happens-- if I forget again, you can just ask me to listen. I care what you have to say, and I will always listen to your opinion. Don’t yell at me again. It doesn’t help.”

Virgil ducks his head.

“Okay,” he says. “I know that. I just... I forget. That you care. I’m sorry. I should’ve just-- tried talking, instead of making it a fight.”

“You’ll do better next time,” Patton assures him. “It’ll probably also get easier once Logan is awake.”

But at noon, Logan still hasn’t left his room. By three pm, Virgil has bitten his nails so much that Patton wheedles Roman into painting them for him, and Virgil immediately crosses his arms and glares, but Patton can see the interest he’s trying to hide.

Patton catches Roman trying to paint Virgil’s nails orange and green, and reminds him that the point is to make something Virgil _wouldn’t_ want to destroy. Roman grumbles, but takes it seriously after that, and at 3:33, Virgil looks at his hands with an amazed look on his face and mumbles,

“It’s good.”

“Just good?” Roman prompts, and Virgil shifts uncomfortably.

“They’re nice,” he says. “I like them. Thank you.”

Roman smiles.

“Just don’t bite them,” he warns, and Virgil nods.

Another half hour passes and Virgil gets more and more restless. He starts pacing, and Patton watches him with concern.

“You’re worrying about him, aren’t you,” he says.

Virgil nods and doesn’t say anything.

“Go ahead and check on him,” Patton says, and Virgil shakes his head.

“I don’t think I should.”

“Why not? Logan--”

“I don’t think he’d want to see me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Patton says. “Logan adores you. Or, in his words, he _appreciates and respects_ you. He says you make sense more often than any of the rest of us, except for him.”

Virgil looks up at him hopefully.

“Really? He said that? When?”

Patton smiles.

“A few weeks ago, I’m not really sure. Remember? We were all discussing what to do about thanksgiving and he threw a little fit about me and Roman ganging up on him while you made a list of everything that could possibly go wrong in the corner. He said, um... He said _This is ridiculous, I don’t consider anyone here my equal. Except maybe Virgil. Maybe I should take a vacation and have him fill in for me, I bet he would keep Thomas functioning better than either of you_.”

Virgil’s jaw drops.

“Oh,” he says. “I wasn’t really paying attention. I was too worried.”

He looks longingly towards the stairs, and Patton gives him a little shove in their direction.

“Go on,” he says. “If anyone can get him to come say hi while he’s hyperfocused, it’s you.”

Virgil ducks his head and smiles, then heads up the stairs, and Patton watches him with a fond look on his face. The waffle iron beeps, and Roman takes his waffle out and stands next to Patton at the bar, dropping an arm around his shoulders and squeezing. Patton smiles.

Things are scary right now, but he knows they’ll get through it. They’ll find a way to help Logan and Patton will figure out how to control himself better. His headache will go away eventually. It can’t stick around forever, after all.

* * *

“Logan,” Virgil says from the door, which is ajar (it’s strange-- Logan usually keeps his door shut so he won’t be distracted by noise).

There’s no response.

Virgil pushes the door further open and steps inside.

The floor falls out from under him.

He screams.

* * *

“Oh, cute.”

The voice reeks of insincerity. Virgil squeezes his eyes shut tighter and holds on tighter to-- a warm body. He opens his eyes.

He’s laying with Logan in an empty space. The only thing in the whole area is the floor, and it’s quite dark, but for some reason he can still see.

Virgil takes a deep breath. This is bad. He’s stuck _somewhere_ with a passed-out Logic, and if he’s where he thinks he is, neither of them have the skills to fight it.

“Why are we here?” Virgil asks, trying not to grind his teeth.

“Just because, I guess,” says the voice. “This is happening. Oh, and I need Reasons’s help. You aren’t really supposed to be here, but you can hang too if you like.”

Virgil bites his lip. He was right.

“If I asked you to put us both back, would you do it?”

“I’d put you back, little Worries,” the voice says, still just as monotone. “But I told you, I still need to get a second opinion on something.”

“You aren’t supposed to use Logic,” Virgil says, aware of who he’s talking to, and aware he doesn’t have the power to mitigate them.

“But I’m just so good at it,” the voice says. A cool breeze blows in the dark, and Virgil shivers.

“Is this going to hurt us?” he asks.

“I dunno,” says the voice. Virgil wants to kick something. “Maybe. It’s just what I’m doing. Why do you care so much, baby angst? Tiny baby cutie pretty pansy little fa--”

“Apathy,” Virgil says, and Apathy’s physical form shimmers into visibility inches away from him at the acknowledgement. He looks the same as always. Virgil takes a step back.

Apathy tilts his head like a strange, twisted cat.

“Why do you care, Anklebiter? Tiny, _little_ virgin on the verge of fading? ‘Logic’ only weakens you. So you could let me help you. We can be the dynamicoolest duo to ever do a duover. Remember the good old days? We failed back then, but we can do it this time.”

“No,” Virgil says, lifting his chin to look Apathy in the eye. “I don’t want it.”

Apathy’s expression does not change.

“The fact remains that you cannot stop me,” he says.

Logan groans softly from the floor, and Virgil hurries back to his side, kneeling down and just sort of watching. Logan rubs his eyes, then opens them, and looks around.

“Virgil,” he says. He yawns. “I’m so tired. Why am I so tired?”

“Don’t ask too many questions,” Virgil says urgently. “You’re low on energy. Logan, don’t listen to Apathy. Feelings are important to Thomas, they make him who he is, without them he’d be so much lesser. His friends wouldn’t like him anymore, he--”

“What?” Logan squints into the darkness. “No, feelings are messy. They mostly just cause trouble. I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad if I... rearranged things a little bit. Yeah.” Logan yawns. “It’ll be fine. You’re worrying too much.”

“Logan, Apathy is the dark side specifically meant to be able to twist you and use you for his own ends--”

“I don’t care about that,” Logan says, waving his concerns away, and he looks even tireder as he does it. “How bad can he be? He sounds like a pretty chill guy, I could use some chill--”

“Send me back,” Virgil says, because he can tell his presence is just draining Logan faster. Apathy snaps his fingers (Logan looks over at him as though he’s just now noticing his presence) and Virgil finds himself back outside of Logan’s door.

He almost runs down the stairs.

“Roman!” he shouts. “Roman, I need--”

He crashes into Roman, who shouts, surprised.

“Why are you running?”

“Why are _you_ running?” Virgil retorts, and then immediately feels silly about it. “That doesn’t matter. Logan needs your help.”

Roman crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, and Virgil tries to look less antsy, but the truth is he’s very worried that Apathy will make Logan use all his remaining energy on whatever it is he wants before they can get there to stop him.

“Fine,” Roman says. “What’s going on?”

“He-- I went to check on him and his door was open, and I went in and the floor disappeared and then I woke up--” Virgil stops short. “You wouldn’t believe me, just come on. There’s an enemy waiting for us who you’re _perfectly_ suited to fight.”

“Sketchy,” Roman mutters, but he follows up the stairs, so Virgil pretends not to hear.

“Are you ready?” Virgil asks, slipping his hand into Roman’s. It feels very weird to do. “Do you have enough energy?”

Roman wrests his hand out of Virgil’s grip and stands up a little straighter.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” he says imperiously.

“Argue with me,” Virgil says on impulse. “I’ll start, and you tell me I’m wrong. Um, your accomplishments aren’t good enough.”

Roman flinches with indignation, and puts his hands on his hips.

“Excuse you? My accomplishments are very impressive! They may not be perfect, but they don’t have to be, because I did them! I created them from nothing, like a god!”

“Good,” Virgil says. “Like that. How do you feel?”

Roman stops, taken aback, and takes a deep breath.

“Oh,” he says. “That’s strange. I feel energised. How did you do that, Mountain Dewm?”

Virgil cracks a grin at the nickname, and says,

“It’s how we work. You get energy from standing up to me, and I get energy from hurting you. Now let’s go fight a dark side, yeah?”

Roman hesitates.

“Virgil,” he says, and Virgil shuts his eyes as.power rushes through him; Roman is worrying. “What exactly will we be facing?”

“Apathy,” Virgil says. “And you have the power to make him let Logan go. Or you’re supposed to, anyway.”

Roman breathes in shakily.

“But what if I don’t? What if you’re wrong, and I can’t actually do that?”

Virgil’s skin begins to buzz with energy, and just like always, there’s a part of him that wants to take the energy and run with it, subjugate the others just like before, but he clamps down on it tightly and says,

“Then we try something else. Apathy can’t hurt you the way I can. I think you’ll find facing him a lot easier than deciding you _can_ face him.”

“But I still--”

“And Apathy getting power isn’t good. Every dark side has a target, Roman, and his is Patton. If he--”

Roman grabs Virgil’s hand and barrels through the door, and Virgil barely manages to suppress a scream this time as the floor falls out from under them.

* * *

There’s a table in the empty space now, a small one with two chairs on either side like you’d find in a cafe. Logan and Apathy are sitting across from each other, deep in conversation, and Logan has a mug in front of him.

“Halt!” Roman shouts, and Virgil puts his face in his hands.

“Oh, hello, Roman,” Logan says. “Apathy and I are discussing the merits of dissociation as a coping mechanism. He brews excellent coffee. Quite energising.”

“Hello, Roman,” Apathy parrots. “You’re roamin’ pretty far from your home base, aren’t you, Mister Ideas.”

“That pun was horrific,” Logan says. “It’s like I’m talking to Virgil and Patton simultaneously in one perfect, emotionless body.”

“What,” Virgil says, “me? I’m not really anything like--”

“Mr. Apathy makes sense in a similar manner to you, only without all the... extra worries,” Logan says, taking a sip of coffee, and Virgil winces, wondering if that use of his old name was intentional or not. “Though for some reason he insists on calling me Reasons, instead of Logan or even Logic.”

“You _are_ Reasons,” Apathy says. “That’s your name.”

“It _was_ my name,” Logan corrects. “I have a better one now.”

“I don’t care.”

Logan sighs.

“Well, anyway, I feel much better already, truly. Would you two care to join us?”

Roman draws his sword, and Virgil heaves a sigh.

“Never!” Roman proclaims. “Logan, I shall save you from this dastardly fellow, and protect Patton in the process! Never fear--”

“I’m not afraid,” Logan says. “Besides, Apathy isn’t bad. Dark doesn’t mean bad. It’s actually quite intriguing, the way the balance works. Apathy weakens Patton, and according to him, Patton has too much energy right now. Does it not follow, then, that augmenting Apathy’s power with my own would be effective in bringing Patton back down to a more manageable level?”

“Dark sides gain energy from weakening the light side they’re powerful against,” Virgil says, and Logan frowns.

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” he says. “You’re supposed to gain energy through resistance, not-- not aggression. You’ve shown remarkable restraint, by the way, Virgil, in not resisting when I bring you in line. I know it weakens you to do so--”

“It doesn’t,” Virgil says harshly. “You’ve been misunderstanding this whole time. I get energy from hurting Roman. Standing against you _takes_ energy.”

“Hmm,” Logan says, narrowing his eyes at Apathy. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” Apathy confirms. “I thought you knew that, and just didn’t care.”

“Well--”

“This is ridiculous,” Roman says, standing up. “Thomas does not need to be Apathetic right now. What he needs is something constructive to do with his frustration. You think he needs to be distracted from his situation, don’t you? You think you should make sure he doesn’t feel worried about what’s going to happen to Will?”

Apathy nods, and Roman grins.

“I agree!” he says, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “He needs to be reminded of exactly why he’s doing all of this! He needs to daydream about beautiful weddings, and opening nights on broadway, and heck, I don’t know, maybe even kids! Sure, you’re useful in many situations, like when Thomas gets injured and it looks really bad and he’s freaking out, or when he’s just completed an audition and needs to avoid a panic attack, but this isn’t like those times. Your methods would just hurt him right now.”

Apathy waves his hand, and the table and chairs disappear. Logan’s mug remains; luckily he was holding it at the time, so it doesn’t spill, but he does fall on his butt in a rather undignified manner.

Apathy snaps his fingers, and the three of them reappear in the kitchen, where Patton is still making waffles.

“That was strange,” Logan says, standing up and dusting off his hands. “I hope he isn’t angry.”

“That’s not how he works,” Virgil explains. “He doesn’t really care whether he succeeds or not, he just does his job and accepts the consequences. I honestly have no idea if he even knows how to have fun.”

“Hey,” Patton greets them with a confused smile. “Good to see you up and about, Logan. Who are you talking about?”

“How are you holding up?” Logan asks, and before Patton can answer, Roman snaps,

“I was gonna ask him that.”

“I’m alright,” Patton says, looking at Roman strangely. “What about you, Logan?”

“Tired,” Logan says. “Apathy tells me you have too much energy lately. I believe I may have a solution. Patton, you will act as a sort of... manager slash boss for the time being, until Deceit gets back.”

Virgil frowns.

“But Logan... How would that help? He doesn’t need more power--”

Patton agrees with him. He opens his mouth to ask about Apathy, but Roman cuts him off.

“But with great power comes great responsibility, my dark and stormy friend! Logan has the right of it. Putting Patton in charge will allow him to use some of his energy just coordinating everyone.”

“Precisely,” Logan says. “Ensuring that you have less idle time will make it less likely that you use your power irresponsibly. Think of it less as giving you more power and more as giving you more responsibility. You will be responsible for hearing everyone’s suggestions and ensuring that all of us get to have our say before reaching a decision, and you will be responsible for not showing a bias towards your own suggestion.”

“That might actually work,” Virgil mutters, and Patton looks at him in surprise and dismay.

“Logan, the last thing I need is more power.”

“We aren’t giving you power,” Roman says. “We’re giving you more things you have to spend it on. Obviously. And this doesn’t have to be permanent. If it makes things worse, we can always go back to normal.”

The others consider it settled. Patton does not, but they all still look to him anyway after that, and he has no choice but to assume Logan’s usual role of keeping debates on track. This means less puns, less fun, and greater focus, and Patton isn’t a fan. It does nothing to help the buzzing in his head.

* * *

“Patton, are you feeling alright?” Thomas asks, a few days later, and Patton shakes his head, silent. He’s zoned out in the middle of a conversation, but he can’t bring himself to care. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a swarm of hornets in my brain,” he mumbles, then realises what he’s just said and smiles brightly. “I’m alright! Back to the topic at hand. What are we talking about again?”

“You aren’t fooling anyone,” Virgil says.

“Patton, just tell us how you feel!” Roman says, and Logan has his trademark _ew, feelings_ face on, but he says,

“If we understand how you feel, we can take steps to fix it.”

“I don’t like this,” Patton says. “This-- this was a horrible idea! I can’t be a boss or a manager or anything like that. I couldn’t even be a real dad, okay? I’m not-- Logan, I’m not like you. I can’t keep us on track and trying is just making things worse.”

There’s a pop, and Patton feels someone standing behind him, but no one else reacts, so he doesn’t turn.

“This is stupid,” says a whisper in his ear.

“This is stupid,” Patton repeats. “I don’t care about any of this, it’s all-- whatever. I just wanna--”

“Apathy,” Virgil says, and the person behind Patton solidifies. Thomas flinches.

“Oh, hello, Apathy,” Logan says conversationally. Patton feels hands on his back, and then Apathy shoves him. He stumbles forwards, landing hard on his knees, and hides his face in his hands.

“Greetings,” Apathy says. “Feelings isn’t going to fight me. Thomas, you don’t care anymore.”

Thomas doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and Patton feels dread settle in his stomach, because Apathy is right. He knows what it does to the noise in his head when he resists him, and he can’t handle more of it.

“Okay,” Thomas says. “What now?”

Roman starts to say something, but then he makes a choked noise. Patton hears some scuffling, so he looks up to see Sleep with his elbow on Thomas’s shoulder, looking smug. Roman is cowering in his corner with his hands over his mouth.

“You know what now,” Sleep says. “Let’s fuckin’ gooooo!”

“Sleep!” Logan says, stepping forward. “I need to ask something. I know Thomas has dark sides and light sides, but you don’t fit into either group. What are you?”

“I’m a deep side,” Sleep says. “Y’know, like... oh. You don’t know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Logan says. “What are you talking about?”

“You've met Memory, haven’t you?” Sleep asks, and Logan’s jaw drops.

“Wait,” Thomas says. “There’s even more of you? How many ARE there?”

“Memory is a side?” Logan says. “I thought-- it’s literally a function of the brain, not a personality trait! I--”

“That’s what deep sides are,” Sleep says. “We’re... mirrors to the upper sides, but I’m not gonna explain it. It’s not my job, and also it’s boring. Thomas, go to sleep.”

“Wait, I don’t want to sleep right now,” Thomas says, and Sleep rolls his eyes. “I want to know more, I--”

“I’m out,” Sleep says, snapping his fingers, and he pops out of sight.

“Deep sides,” Logan muses. “How interesting. Memory? Come here, please.”

 _There’s no spot for me to stand_ , someone says, and Patton flinches. He knows that voice! That’s the voice in Patton’s head, the one that says his thoughts when he thinks them. Virgil and Roman both look similarly unnerved, and he assumes it must be the same for them as well.

“Who are the deep sides?” Logan asks.

 _Pain, Hunger, Memory, Sleep, Fun, and Sexuality_ , Memory recites. _formerly Fear, Ambition, Curiosity, Ennui, Humor, and Pride._

“I’ve met Pain,” Virgil says. “Gosh. I’m never gonna get used to your new voice, Memory. Why’d you have to stop being Curiosity and--”

 _I never stopped being Curiosity,_ Memory says. _I simply began to be Memory as well._

“Whatever,” Virgil says. “We’re getting off track. Apathy, get out of here.”

“I can’t,” Apathy says. “You can kick me out, but until Feelings stands up to me I will keep coming back.”

“Patton,” Roman says, “You can do this.”

Patton shakes his head.

“Stand up,” says Virgil. “Come on.”

“I can’t,” Patton says. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. It feels like I’m dying and if I care when he tells me not to it gets worse. I’m not doing it. I won’t. Stop telling me to.”

“You said you could weaken him,” Logan says. “Apathy. Are you doing that?”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Patton says.

“Oh, I don’t have enough energy to do that right now,” Apathy says, as though it’s obvious. “You know it’s like an investment, right? If I try and he resists successfully, I lose energy, and if he doesn’t resist at all I just get the same amount back. He has to fight, at least a little bit, for me to get anything out of it.”

“Okay, this is getting out of hand,” Roman says. “We’re going about this in completely the wrong way! Patton shouldn’t be trying to act like Logan! And you can’t keep all this energy bottled up! Maybe you’re supposed to use it!”

“No!” Virgil says. “When-- you can’t! It makes things worse. _I_ made things worse, I don’t want Patton to make the same mistake as me.”

“Sometimes people are just more emotional,” Roman insists, eyes shining with determination. “Thomas is allowed to have feelings about what happened at thanksgiving. Logan, back me up.”

Logan clears his throat, and Virgil crosses his arms.

“Sometimes, the brain will keep the emotions resulting from a traumatic or painful event hidden until a person escapes from the situation or person that caused them. It then releases those emotions again once you are safe enough to process them. So I believe Roman is right. If Thomas’s feelings are stronger than normal, they are probably also more important.”

“Okay, gang up on me again,” Virgil says, beginning to sink out. “Whatever.”

“You don’t feel listened to,” Logan observes. Virgil pauses and rises back up. “What’s wrong?”

“This is a mistake,” Virgil says. “He-- we have to keep a balance. Letting Patton do whatever he wants isn’t gonna do that!”

“But it might, eventually,” Logan says. “Hear me out, okay? I’m about to say something that makes sense.”

“Fine,” Virgil says, fidgeting anxiously with the sleeves of his hoodie.

“If Patton uses all the energy he has, then sure, it’ll be pretty... emotional around here. You know me, Virgil, you know how I’ll hate that. But if he doesn’t... Who’s asleep right now, Virgil? Who won’t have enough energy to wake up again if Morality is saturated with so much power he can barely function? Who do _I_ get energy from resisting? Virgil, _think_. If we let Patton work off this energy, I think Deceit will recover more quickly, since his absence is responsible for the release of these emotions in the first place. And then things can go back to normal again.”

“How is Deceit responsible,” Thomas asks. “I don’t understand.”

“He was the one hiding these feelings from you,” Logan says. “Presumably for your own good, or because they were too painful to contemplate before now. My guess is that, now that William has demonstrated his appreciation for you by showing you the strength he feels you have given him, you don’t have to feel so afraid of being unneeded by him while you reflect on the time you weren’t needed by someone else.”

“That was surprisingly insightful of you, Logan,” Thomas says, and Logan straightens his tie.

“Just because I don’t have feelings doesn’t mean I am incapable of acknowledging them in others. Does that help you feel better, Virgil?”

Virgil sighs.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Patton,” Roman says. “Stand up.”

Patton sniffles, and gets up.

“It hurts,” he says, and Roman nods.

“I know. But it’s still _your_ feeling.”

Patton looks to Virgil, who nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “I was wrong again. It’s okay for Thomas to feel bad. We just can’t let it get out of hand.”

So Patton puts his face in his hands and lets himself cry. When he looks up again, Apathy is gone, and Thomas is crying too.

“This is just like Steven Universe,” Patton says, and then he cries even harder. “I even wear blue!”

Roman holds his arms out, and Patton accepts the comfort, ignoring everything else to just cry.

“Will wants to know what’s wrong,” Thomas tells them after a moment, sinking out of the mindscape to focus fully on what Will is saying.

“Tell him,” Patton says.

“No, don’t,” Virgil protests. “Wait. Just-- he doesn’t want to hear about your ex--”

“Historically, Will wants to hear about almost anything Thomas has to say,” Logan says, and Virgil grumbles, but backs down.

“I feel so weird,” Patton says, and Roman pats him on the back.

“It’s okay,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”

Patton lets the tears flow. It feels good. The energy buzzing around in his brain is slowly abating, and Roman is holding him tightly.

“Ew,” Virgil says.

“I agree,” says Logan. “Though I would have said it more tactfully, personally. Could you two take this display somewhere else?”

“Stop watching us,” Roman says indignantly, and Patton pulls away from him for long enough to manifest a deck of cards and chuck it in Logan’s direction.

“Hey!”

“That could have hit him,” Virgil says. “What the fuck are you--”

“Go play solitaire, you two,” Patton says, and Logan raises an eyebrow.

“Solitaire is meant to be played by one person--”

“Take turns,” Patton suggests. “You want me in charge so bad, fine, I’ll be team captain. This is a team-building exercise. You’re gonna learn to work together at something other than bothering me while I’m trying to cry!”

“Jeez, okay, fine,” Virgil says, and Patton throws himself back into Roman’s arms.

Yeah, things are going to be okay. It might take a while, but Patton is certain it’ll happen eventually.


	3. I'm a Loser (Who Loves You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9167 words
> 
> Logan doesn't understand people. He doesn't understand _Virgil_ , specifically, and he doesn't understand anything Virgil makes him feel. Through mysterious circumstances (Roman and Patton plotting), he is forced to spend more time with him than usual, and eventually succumbs to the irresistible urge to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from Shine by Pentagon
> 
> You guys are going to explode when you read this chapter... I'm so pumped! I thought I had finished writing it three or four days ago, and I wanted to post it, but I still waited, and it's a good thing I did! If I hadn't waited, you wouldn't be meeting any of the new sides in this chapter. Ohhhh my god. You guys. I can't wait. There's so much good character stuff in here!! This chapter is SO LONG too. It's like 1.5K over my word count goal for each chapter. Also, there's gonna be a fifth chapter!! 9,167 words. ridiculous.
> 
> I broke 25K and 30K a few days ago in the same day because I wrote 7K words in one day. This is the longest story I have ever written. I'm so in love with all my characters and it breaks my heart that I won't be able to keep writing them when I've finished this. I still probably won't break 50K before November ends, but for a while it looked like I was going to. Then I forgot to bring my ADHD meds on a road trip and missed two days of writing. If I allow myself a full month after the day I started this (until December 6th) I'll probably make it, though.
> 
> Chapter 4 will be posted on November 30th or December 1st, and Chapter 5 will be posted a week later. There will not be a sixth chapter unless things go completely off the rails.
> 
> This chapter was pretty hard to write, since chapter 4 happens at the same time, so I had to make sure events lined up properly... I'm still terrified I missed something, lol
> 
> Warnings: mild body horror (same sort of thing deceit has going on), a brief creepy scene

Solitaire is... adequate. Logan sets it up, aware of Virgil watching everything he does with great care, and takes the first move, then hands the cards to Virgil. Virgil clumsily slips the first three cards off the deck, watching Logan as he does so, and then he looks down at the three cards in his hand. He takes the first one and puts it onto a pile, seemingly at random, then gives the cards back.

“That was a really bad move,” Logan observes, and Virgil rolls his eyes.

“Maybe I’m trying to lose,” he says, smirking, and Logan crosses his arms.

“What’s the point?”

“To piss you off.”

Virgil is grinning openly now, and Logan realises that his pulse has sped up. He must be angry. He takes a deep breath, but that just makes him more aware of his own body, which for some reason makes things worse. He feels warm all over.

“Don’t be ornery,” he says, setting the cards down so he won’t accidentally throw them in anger, and Virgil crosses his arms too.

“What if I want to be ornery?”

“Don’t,” Logan repeats, and Virgil picks up the cards that haven’t been set out on the table yet and flips them into the air, 52-card-pickup style. “Oh my god.”

* * *

Logan was determined to never play solitaire with Virgil again after that incident, but Patton insisted on it, so here they are sat at the kitchen counter, side by side.

“Please don’t mess the whole game up,” Logan pleads, and Virgil rolls his eyes.

“This is stupid,” he says. “I hate solitaire, it’s boring and terrible and it makes no sense--”

“Just play,” Logan interrupts, and Virgil picks a card at random and puts it-- he puts the seven of clubs onto the four of hearts.

“Fine. There.”

“You can’t do that!” Logan exclaims, and Virgil throws the cards on the floor again and leaves. Logan sighs, and starts picking them up.

* * *

“I don’t understand what his deal is!”

Patton is nodding, so Logan keeps going.

“He’s thrown the cards into the air _twice_ , and both times I had to pick them all up by myself! It’s ridiculous! I’m getting so tired of it.”

Patton sighs, and Logan pauses, waiting for him to admit that of course this was a terrible idea, and he’ll never make Logan play solitaire with Virgil ever again--

“Do you have something important to tell me?” Patton asks, and Logan sputters. “Because this is not my problem. Use that brain of yours, Logic. Try and figure out _why_ he’s acting this way.”

“He likes to get a rise out of me,” Logan says. “Obviously. You’re just giving him more opportunities.”

“I thought Virgil’s preferred target was Roman,” Patton says innocently. “Speaking of whom, I have a date in less than ten minutes, so hurry it up.”

“A _date_ \--”

“Oh, not that kind of date,” Patton says, laughing like Logan’s problems aren’t remotely urgent. “A playdate. We’re going to play Monopoly!”

“How are you going to play Monopoly with just two--”

“Hunger and Memory are coming too.”

“Anyway--”

“Yes, yes, Virgil won’t cooperate, I know. Have you considered that maybe he doesn’t know how to play solitaire?”

Logan frowns.

“That wouldn’t make any sense, though,” he says, and Patton shrugs.

“Sometimes people don’t make sense.”

“But Virgil-- Anxiety always makes sense, at least a little bit. He’s supposed to act-- well, logically.”

“Maybe what you’ve been seeing as acting logically was just him acting anxiously,” Patton suggests judiciously, and Logan purses his lips.

“Maybe,” he says doubtfully. “I still don’t see why he would pretend to know--”

“He’s embarrassed,” Patton says. “Go try again.”

“But--”

“I said drop and give me twenty!” Patton shouts gleefully, and Logan flinches at the noise, then glares as Patton giggles at his own joke.

“That was a drill sergeant,” Logan says darkly. “Not a sports team captain. Please don’t mix metaphors.”

“You know the drill,” Patton says, and Logan groans. “Go play solitaire with Virgil.”

“Fine!” Logan slams Patton’s door on the way out, and shouts over his shoulder, “But solitaire is not a team sport!”

* * *

“Do you even know how to play solitaire?” Logan asks, setting up the game.

“Of course I know how to play solitaire,” Virgil scoffs. His voice sounds a little strange.

“I knew it,” Logan says. “I’ll tell Patton he was wrong. Do you have a cold?”

Over the course of that game (meaning within the first two moves) Logan discovers that Virgil has no fucking clue how to play solitaire.

“Why would you pretend you could play solitaire--”

“You know we don’t actually have to play solitaire, right?” Virgil asks, and Logan narrows his eyes. “Patton just wants us to leave him alone while he romances his prince.”

“I’m going to teach you how to play solitaire,” Logan tells him, and Virgil groans.

“Why?”

“Because you should know already. I can’t just let you go around not knowing how to play solitaire!”

Virgil frowns doubtfully.

“This is gonna sound really hypocritical, but you know you can just ask if I wanna hang out, right?”

“What?”

“You don’t have to pretend to care whether I know solitaire, Logan. You can just say you wanna hang out.”

“But I do care whether you know solitaire.”

Right? Logan frowns. Of course that’s it. It’s the only logical reason he’d be so invested in making sure Virgil stays to play the game with him, and Logan is a logical person. 

“Right. Okay.”

Logan teaches Virgil how to play solitaire, and that time they get partway through a game before losing.

“That was excruciating,” Virgil mutters. “Horrible. The worst.”

“Oh,” Logan says, feeling, for reasons he can’t identify, as though something terrible has befallen him.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Logan furrows his brow, confused. Why would Virgil arrange to play again if he hated it?

“...Or not?”

“Alright,” Logan says. “Same time tomorrow, I guess.”

* * *

The next time actually happens the following morning.

It goes like this: Logan walks into the kitchen and stops short. Roman is leaning in close, his face inches away from Patton’s. Patton has his eyes shut; Logan can’t see whether Roman’s are open or closed. Patton’s lips are parted and pink. There’s a light blush on his cheeks.

Logan watches, mildly horrified, as Roman leans closer and-- shakily puts eyeliner on Patton. Oh. So that’s what’s going on. He clears his throat.

“Is that Logan or Virgil,” Patton says softly, and Roman glances over, then gets a makeup wipe out and starts rubbing at the eyeliner.

“It’s Logan,” he says.

“How did solitaire go?” Patton asks, and Logan sighs, uncomfortable with admitting he was wrong.

“He didn’t know how to play,” he admits grudgingly. “I taught him, but we still lost.”

“Well, try again, then,” Patton says, and Logan rolls his eyes, but goes to find Virgil anyway.

* * *

“Again?” Virgil asks, disgusted. “Alright. Jeez, it’s too early for this.”

“It’s eleven AM,” Logan says, unamused. Well, maybe a little amused; Virgil is stretching just like a kitten and his hair is sticking up in the back.

“Yeah,” Virgil insists. “Too fuckin’ early. I need waffles--”

“Roman and Patton are using the kitchen,” Logan interrupts, and Virgil groans.

“What the hell for?”

“You’re very angry in the morning,” Logan says, and Virgil looks at him like _no, duh_. “Roman is putting makeup on Patton. I’m not sure why.”

“Oh,” Virgil says. “Probably just an excuse to stare at him. Those two are a mess.”

Logan cocks his head to the side, confused.

“Why would he need an excuse to stare at someone?”

Virgil snorts.

“I don’t know,” he says slyly. “You tell me.”

“I don’t know either,” Logan says, and Virgil rolls his eyes. Logan feels like he’s missed something.

“Anyway,” Virgil says, “Your room?”

Logan hesitates.

His room is _his_ room, redundant though it is to say it that way. He has everything arranged how he likes it, and the thought of someone else coming in, touching his books, sitting in his chair, and standing on his floor--

( _Virgil_ touching his books, sitting in his chair, and standing on his floor with his ratty old shoes that probably have five million diseases--)

“Sure,” he says impulsively, because-- only because-- the kitchen is taken, and Virgil’s room is not the ideal place to play a low-stakes game of solitaire.

They head to his room, and Logan realises he only has one chair. He makes a face, because he’s too low on energy right now to just manifest another one, so he turns to ask Virgil to manifest his own. It’ll probably be a beanbag chair or something similarly unergonomic-- repulsive-- but it’s the only solution he can come up with.

Virgil is already waving his hand and creating a perfect replica of Logan’s current chair. Logan’s jaw drops, but Virgil looks at him strangely, and he regains his bearings.

He scoots his desk chair to the side and clears a wide enough space for solitaire on his desk (it isn’t cluttered, he just normally arranges things around the outline of a piece of printer paper). Virgil pulls his chair up.

“Can I try setting it up this time?” he asks, and Logan hands him the cards. He’s been keeping the same manifested deck around for the past few days, since it costs less energy to maintain than remaking it every time.

Virgil sets the game up, and Logan watches him, watches his hands and the way he frowns a little bit when he isn’t sure where to put the next card. It’s calming.

“I’m going to put some music on,” Logan murmurs, standing and peering at his shelf of manifested songs. “Any requests?”

“What do you have, classical?” Virgil says distractedly.

“And Baroque, Romantic, Modern, et cetera... And Rap.”

“How about some Haydn? Do you have, uh...”

Logan looks at Virgil, impressed, and Virgil flushes and looks away. 

“I don’t have any Haydn manifested right now,” he says apologetically. “Here, I’ll play... Night Music of the Streets of Madrid. By Luigi Boccherini.”

Logan takes it down from the shelf and opens the jar, and the piece starts up.

“You keep your music in tiny Crofter’s jars?” Virgil asks, and Logan flushes, setting the jar on the desk with the lid right beside it.

“Yes,” he says.

“Why?”

Logan pauses.

“I think they look nice,” he says. “...Cute, I suppose. They’re cute.”

“That’s...” Virgil trails off, and Logan looks down at him. Virgil is watching him with a strange look on his face.

“What?” Logan asks, starting to get a little self-conscious. It’s weird having someone else in his room for longer than just a moment. He’s worrying about his decor. Is it too boring? Too muted?

“Nothing,” Virgil says. “You’re just a really big nerd.”

He hands Logan the cards, and Logan isn’t sure how to respond, so he doesn’t.

They lose again, and Virgil heaves a sigh, tossing the cards on the ground and leaning back in his chair. Logan glares at him and bends to pick the cards up.

“Why are you--”

“To conserve energy,” Logan snaps. “I can’t afford to unmanifest and remanifest a deck of cards when I could just pick it up instead.”

“Oh,” Virgil says. He snaps, and the cards stack themselves in a messy pile on Logan’s desk. “I’ll quit throwing them, then. I didn’t realise.”

Logan sighs, and straightens out the pile of cards.

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Roman and Patton are probably finished by now,” Virgil says, and Logan nods, uncertain why he’s bringing them up.

“Yes, probably.”

“So I’m gonna go make a waffle.”

Virgil is watching him, and Logan feels his face heating up.

“Alright,” he says.

Virgil sighs.

“Do you wanna come with me?”

Logan considers it, and nods, screwing the cap back onto the jar and setting it back in its place on his shelf.

* * *

They play on the upstairs landing later that evening around Thomas’s bedtime, which is rarely acknowledged, and even more rarely enforced. Virgil makes a move that takes Logan completely by surprise, and it’s a really good move. For the first time, Logan allows himself to be consciously glad that it’s Virgil he’s playing with.

“Um--” Virgil says. “Your turn.”

“That was a really good move,” Logan says.

Something in his brain is messing up. It must be. He’s malfunctioning. Because there’s a little impulse there in the back of his mind saying, _kiss him_. Logan swallows.

_Kiss him._

Virgil is raising his eyebrows and Logan can’t stop looking at him, at his face which is actually sort of beautiful, at his eyes-- deep, dark, and dangerous--

 _Kiss him_ , Logan thinks to himself. _Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him_.

“Hey,” someone says, stepping onto the cards, and Logan looks up to see Sleep, arms crossed, staring down at Virgil. The tension dissipates, and Logan realises the absurdity of what he was just thinking. “Where the fuck have you been, Anxiety? You’re, like, _always_ hanging around the common room right about now, and you’ve missed two nights in a row. Are you sick?”

“Maybe I’ve just found something better to do than bother you,” Virgil says lightly, and Sleep stomps his foot. Logan winces.

“Step off of the cards, please,” he says. “We are trying to play solitaire.”

“Solitaire,” Sleep exclaims. “Solitaire? That’s fucking ridiculous. Solitaire!”

“It’s a team-building exercise,” Logan explains. “Don’t you have something to do, Sleep?”

“That’s the worst team-building exercise I’ve ever fucking heard of,” Sleep says derisively. “Whatever. I’m out.”

He storms down the stairs, and Logan accepts the cards from Virgil and continues the game, a little unnerved by his own mind.

 _Kiss him_? No way. No, Logan is not going to kiss Virgil. He _isn’t_.

They lose again, despite Virgil’s genius move, and this time Virgil helps pick the cards up off the floor. Their hands brush when Virgil passes his stack to Logan, and Logan’s annoying new impulse kicks into gear. _Kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him_ , it insists.

“Goodnight!” Logan says, panicky and disoriented, and he practically sprints to his room.

* * *

“Truth or dare!” Patton shouts, and Logan heaves a sigh.

“Thank you for the complete non sequitur, Patton. We are currently talking about--”

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Patton continues, like Logan hadn’t said anything at all.

“Truth or dare sucks,” Virgil says. “If we play anything, it’s gonna be Never Have I Ever.”

Logan ends up sitting on the floor in a tight circle with the other three, right knee touching Virgil’s left, left knee touching Roman’s right.

“...So if you’ve done the thing,” Patton finishes explaining to Roman, “You take a shot of syrup.”

“Incredible!” Roman exclaims. “I shall begin! Never have I ever... Never have I ever thrown something at a friend.”

Logan frowns. Has he done that? Virgil nudges him.

Oh, that’s right. He threw a crumpled up index card at Roman.

“Hm? Oh. Do I have to drink... syrup? Why syrup?”

“No alcohol,” Patton says cheerily. “Go on!”

“Fine.”

The syrup does not go down smooth. Logan isn’t one for mind-altering substances, but he thinks he would have preferred alcohol.

“Now it’s my turn,” Patton says. “Hm. Never have I ever kissed someone on the lips. Besides Sleep. That doesn’t count.”

Roman scoffs.

“I don’t think any of us have done that,” he begins to say, and then Virgil fills his shot glass with syrup and throws it back.

“Woah,” Roman says. “You’ve kissed someone?” He’s looking at Logan for some reason.

“Who did you kiss,” Logan asks, even though he’s pretty sure he’d rather not know.

“Apathy,” Virgil says, and Logan watches as Roman’s eyebrows shoot up. “He--” Virgil shakes his head. “Sleep dared him to make out with me, so he did it. Since I’m pretty sure there’s not a single dark or deep side that hasn’t crushed on Sleep at some point.”

“How would Apathy have a crush,” Logan says. “That’s like me having a crush.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow, and Logan feels his cheeks heating up and doesn’t know why. 

_Kiss him_.

No.

“I never said he admitted to having a crush. But he definitely had a crush, and didn’t realise it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan says. “You can’t have a crush and not realise it.”

“Whatever you say,” Virgil drawls, rolling his eyes. “Anyway. Never have I ever won a game of solitaire.”

“Curse you!” Roman says, filling his and Logan’s glass with syrup. “I will have my revenge!”

“Don’t take it personal, Princey. I was aiming for Logan,” Virgil says, and Logan almost chokes on his syrup.

“You mean _personally_ , Virgil, and I thought we were allies,” he says. “Well. At least now I don’t have to attempt to think of something that exclusively targets the other two. Never have I ever worn makeup.”

Logan smirks, and basks in the chaos around him as Roman soliloquizes and Patton pouts and Virgil-- Virgil nudges him, leans over, and promises in his ear,

“I’ll get you for that.”

 _Kiss him_.

And Logan understands, suddenly, that Virgil specifically targeting him wasn’t because he’s angry about something or because he doesn’t consider him a worthy ally. This is just one of those weird things people do. One of those things Logan never really understands. He gets it this time, though, and it’s kind of exhilarating. He wonders if everyone else feels this way all the time.

 _Kiss him_.

“Never have I ever lost a game of solitaire,” Roman says bombastically, and the moment passes. Or, it sort of does. Virgil flips Roman off without looking away from Logan, and Logan is the one who breaks eye contact in the end. He looks away, face flushing, and chokes down another shot of syrup.

“Never have I ever said infinitesimal when I meant to say multitudinous,” Patton declares, and Logan smiles at him smugly.

“Me neither,” he says. “I don’t even think infinitesimal is a word-- I mean multitudinous.”

“You just did it!” Roman shouts, and Logan crosses his arms.

“But I _hadn’t_ at the time Patton said it. So it doesn’t count.”

“I think it counts,” Virgil says, and Logan narrows his eyes.

“Actually, the United States Constitution prohibits ex post facto and this is basically the same concept in reverse--”

“This is a party game, not a court of law,” Virgil says, rolling his eyes.

“And anyway, I’m team captain and I say it counts,” says Patton, filling Logan’s glass with syrup. “Drink up!”

Logan wrinkles his nose, but drinks the syrup, and Virgil says,

“Never have I ever, uh... denied the very possibility that I could have feelings.”

Logan sighs, and refills his shotglass.

“Never have I ever worn a hoodie,” he says, catching Patton in the crossfire because of his cat hoodie.

“You must have worn a hoodie,” Roman protests. “Not even once?”

“Not even once,” Logan confirms, and Roman scowls. Why is he making such a big deal out of it? He hasn’t worn one either.

“This is a travesty,” he declares. “No makeup, no hoodie!? We are giving you a makeover. Right now!”

“No,” Logan says. “That’s not happening. No way.”

“I bet he’d look cute in black lipstick,” Virgil muses, and Logan feels himself blushing as Roman says,

“Ew! We are _not_ giving him _emo_ makeup. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Hey,” Patton says, excited in a way that tells Logan he’s not going to like the next few words out of his mouth, “you could both give him a makeover and the one he likes best wins! A friendly competition.”

“Roman can go first,” Virgil says, and Logan heaves a sigh.

“I don’t want--” It’s a lie. He has been interested, for a while, in wearing makeup. Particularly eyeliner. “Fine.”

“Awesome!” Roman says. “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple,” Logan supplies. “Like in my tie. Or the asexual pride flag.”

“Surprising choice,” Roman says.

“How so?”

“I think we were all expecting dark blue,” Virgil says. “Purple is... kinda my colour.”

“You can’t own a colour, that’s preposterous,” Logan says.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Virgil says. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

Roman puts so much makeup on Logan that he feels like he’s been given an additional skin. The visual result, when Roman holds up a mirror, is adequate (lots of purple), but Logan can’t get over the way it feels on his face, heavy and suffocating.

“Okay, Virgil’s turn now,” Logan says with relief, snatching the makeup wipes and relieving his face of the hell paint. “I feel should warn you I’m not a fan of the-- that is to say-- I don’t want the same kind of style you prefer.”

“No worries,” Virgil says, twirling an eyeliner pencil as he waits for Logan to clean his face off. “I’ll keep it simple.”

“Oh,” Logan says, pleasantly surprised. He assumed this whole makeover thing would just be Roman and Virgil trying to show each other up, but-- he has a feeling he might actually like what Virgil does.

Once his face is clean, Virgil leans in, and-- oh no.

_Kiss him. Kiss him. Kiss him!_

“Close your eyes,” Virgil says mercifully, so Logan does.

Virgil rests his hand on Logan’s cheek, ostensibly for stability, and then Logan feels the smooth glide of eyeliner along the edge of his eyelid.

“Do you want a wing?” he asks, and Logan shrugs, forgetting he’s supposed to be sitting still. “Crud. Stay still, you made it smudge.”

“Sorry,” Logan murmurs. The impulse to kiss Virgil is somehow even worse with his eyes closed. “I don’t know what you mean by wing.”

“I’ll go ahead and wing it,” Virgil decides, wiping off the smudge and redrawing it. He does the other eye too, quick enough that it’s obvious he’s had practice putting eyeliner on other people (Roman’s hands were shaky, and he redid the eyeliner several times). “Open your mouth a little bit.”

Logan opens his mouth, eyes still shut, and doesn’t quite flinch when he feels... probably lipstick. It feels very different from the lip gloss Roman used. It’s a lot heavier. He doesn’t like it. He hears Roman giggling and whispering something to Patton. He feels self-conscious all of a sudden. What if Virgil is just making him look ridiculous?

“Rub your lips together,” Virgil says, so Logan does. “Ignore them, Patton’s just making lip puns.”

He pats the excess lipstick off with a paper towel and then leans back, and Logan keeps his eyes shut, afraid of what he’ll see if he opens them (afraid of how Virgil will be looking at him).

“Okay,” Virgil says. “Done.”

Logan opens his eyes and immediately changes his mind about the lipstick. It looks... nice. He was expecting black lipstick because of what Virgil said, but it’s... Well, Logan doesn’t have the makeup vocabulary necessary to categorise the colour, but it’s a sort of tannish pink that doesn’t stand out too much. And the eyeliner ends in a sharp point just past the edge of his eye.

“Oh,” Logan says.

“So who did better?” Roman asks imperiously.

“Virgil,” Logan says immediately, and Roman scoffs.

“Virgil hardly did anything. You’re only saying that because you have a--”

“Shut up,” Virgil says, and Logan tears his eyes away from his own reflection for long enough to narrow them at Roman.

“I didn’t like the way your makeup felt on my face,” he says. “This is less obtrusive. Simpler. I prefer it.”

“Logan just isn’t the flamboyant type,” Virgil says smugly. Roman crosses his arms.

“I liked yours,” Patton says, and Roman softens.

“So do you like mine, or just hate it less?” Virgil asks, acting like the answer doesn’t matter, but Logan knows he wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t care. He finds himself trying to figure out a tactful way to answer. It feels weird. Trying to spare someone’s feelings feels _weird_.

“Both,” he eventually says. “I’m still not a fan of the way it feels on my face, so I hate the feeling less. But I do like how it looks. This particular shade of lipstick is... a pleasant surprise.”

Virgil smiles to himself-- _kiss him_ \-- and ducks his head shyly, letting his hoodie sleeves slip down to cover his hands. Logan observes, in a sort of detached, unemotional way, that it’s really freaking cute.

“I’m glad you like it,” Virgil says quietly.

 _Kiss him_.

Logan feels a strange sensation in his chest, like someone’s blowing up a balloon just behind his sternum.

“Well! Bedtime for me,” Roman says suddenly.

“Me too,” Patton says, winking at Virgil and leaving with Roman.

“It’s five PM,” Logan calls after them, but they either don’t hear or just act like they can’t. “Hm. That was strange.”

“Yeah,” Virgil agrees, rolling his eyes. “Well. We’re alone now.”

“Yes,” Logan says. His palms feel warm.

“What do you wanna do?”

 _Kiss him_.

Logan really wants to kiss Virgil. The impulse has metastasised, bleeding into everything he does, and he’s realised it probably wasn’t even just an impulse in the first place. It’s not an intrusive thought. He’s not thinking it because there’s something wrong with his brain, or because he’s gotten sick. He’s thinking it because he wants to kiss Virgil.

“Um--”

 _Kiss him_.

Logan almost says it. He puts the words in order in his mind and then goes over them a few times: _I want to kiss you. Do you want to kiss me? If so, let’s kiss each other._

But then he remembers the Valentine’s Day video, and how the others reacted to his attempts at courtship. Is this too weird? Is it creepy? He’s not sure. He doesn’t know how to tell.

“You’re worrying at the speed of light over there, Lo,” Virgil says, and Logan’s brain shorts out. “You wanna talk about it?”

 _Lo_.

“U-um--”

“Listen, you may be a weirdo, but you’re our weirdo.”

What. Can Virgil tell what he’s worrying about? Does he know--

“That didn’t come out right. Fuck. I’m saying-- it’s okay. I’m not gonna judge you.”

“How much can you tell?” Logan asks. His voice breaks.

“Not a lot,” Virgil says. “Just when someone in here is anxious. And if they’re very anxious, I can tell sort of what they’re anxious about. But not with any detail, really. Are you alright? We don’t have to talk about it.”

And maybe Logan was a little too hasty in declaring that he didn’t have feelings. Maybe-- okay, maybe it was just a reaction to his utter embarrassment in the Valentine’s Day video. Maybe he decided-- it wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t flirt, as long as he didn’t need to. Maybe he was just lying to himself. Maybe-- maybe-- he might want to kiss someone just for the thrill of it. Maybe.

Logan can feel his own heartbeat in his palms: _maybe, maybe, maybe_.

 _Kiss me_ , he thinks.

“Let’s play solitaire,” he says.

* * *

“Huh,” Virgil says, a few days later. They’re at Logan’s desk. Logan is letting a snippet of a kpop song play that Thomas heard a few weeks ago. He grabbed it because the rap sounded cool.

“What?”

Virgil sets down the card he just revealed from beneath a pile. It’s the fourth ace, the ace of hearts.

“We have all four aces,” he says. “What now? We haven’t ever gotten this far before.”

Logan smiles, satisfied.

“Now we have to be even more careful.”

“Why?”

“It’s ridiculously easy to lose once you get to this point if you aren’t paying attention.”

Virgil nods.

“Alright,” he says. He sounds determined. Logan feels good. He feels like he’s been taken seriously.

They play through the rest of that game slowly and carefully. Virgil puts the King of Spades onto the Queen of Spades and then looks up at Logan.

“You wouldn’t have to look up at me if you stopped slouching,” Logan says, hoping that a non sequitur will distract his impulse, and Virgil looks at him confusedly. It’s no use. He still looks beautiful.

“Maybe I don’t mind looking up at you,” Virgil says. Logan can’t tell if the twist to his mouth is a smirk or something else. He can’t tell if the feeling in his stomach is nausea or butterflies.

“Maybe you just like slouching,” Logan says. His voice comes out more sharply than he intended, and Virgil pulls back a bit, shoulders slumping. He looks very shy, suddenly.

“Yea--”

“Sorry,” Logan says on impulse. “For-- I probably hurt your feelings. The other day. In Apathy’s room.”

“Oh,” Virgil says, taken aback. Logan watches him carefully, unsure how his apology will be taken. “It’s--”

“I didn’t care at the time, because of Apathy’s room, but that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have implied that your job in Thomas’s psyche makes you an unworthy conversational partner. I value your contributions. I’m sorry if what I said made you feel--”

“Logan,” Virgil says, and Logan flushes. He was babbling again. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Logan says. He swallows. “We finally won Solitaire.”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “We sure did. Couldn’t have done it without you, Specs.”

Logan frowns.

“Specs?”

Virgil ducks his head.

“Uh, yeah. Like. Spectacles.”

“Ah.” Logan nods. “I see.”

“So, what now? We’ve mastered solitaire.”

“We tell Patton,” Logan says. “Even if he still makes us do these exercises, he’ll at least have to think of a new one.”

* * *

“Chess,” Patton says. “But sit next to each other while you play.”

Logan looks at Virgil.

“I know how to play chess,” Virgil says.

“So do I,” says Logan.

* * *

They play chess.

Virgil manifests the chess set, and then says that since it’s his set, he should get to choose what colour he plays, and Logan rolls his eyes, but acquiesces.

“Black,” Virgil says, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “I’m playing black.”

Virgil snaps his fingers, and the pieces set themselves up.

“Sitting on the side of the board makes it very confusing,” Logan observes. “Hmm.”

“Think of it as a handicap,” Virgil suggests. “So you don’t thrash me too easily every time.”

Logan moves a pawn, and Virgil--

“What are you--”

“If I want to move a knight out on the first turn, that’s my business,” Virgil says firmly, and Logan rolls his eyes.

Logan ends up winning that game because he quickly realises that Virgil will prioritise his knights over every other piece, so he uses threats against them to manipulate Virgil into sacrificing his other pieces.

“Checkmate,” he says, and Virgil snaps his fingers to set the board up again. “Good game.”

“Yeah,” Virgil says.

“Virgil, I was wondering...” Logan bites his lip, unsure now that it has come time to ask. But the worst thing that could happen is Virgil saying no. “Will you teach me how to apply eyeliner?”

Virgil raises his eyebrows, and Logan feels his face flushing yet again. He blushes a lot around Virgil. It’s embarrassing.

“No,” he says, and Logan swallows. He doesn’t like how much it hurts. “I’m not a good teacher, you’d just get frustrated with me. But I can ask the guy who taught me how.”

“Who taught you?” Logan asks, distracted from the feeling of rejection by the prospect of meeting someone new.

“Pride did, back before... well. People tell me he’s sensitive about all that, so... if he agrees to teach you, you can’t ask what happened.”

Logan makes a face.

“Okay, I suppose I can keep my curiosity at bay long enough.”

“Oh, and don’t mention Roman.”

“What? Why?”

“Just... don’t. There’s a lot of leftover bitterness. I haven’t even spoken to Sexuality since... since he stopped being Pride.”

“Okay,” Logan says, because there’s a weird, subdued look in Virgil’s eye. Like this is difficult for him to talk about. “Did you know about the deep sides before the rest of us?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “I thought I was going to end up as one, before the power dynamics were solidified all the way. It’s-- I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” Logan says. “Where do the deep sides even stay? Do they have the same kind of power relationship as us?”

Virgil sighs, and shakes his head.

“They... it’s hard to get to their rooms. And they don’t relate to each other the same way we do. I’m not sure if it’s like that for everyone, but... they sank because our dynamic worked more smoothly without them. They didn’t get much of a chance to set anything up before Thomas got too old for that to change. You could probably get to Memory’s room. I can get to Pain’s, and that’s where we’ll start. That is, if you want to come with. You probably don’t--”

“Of course I’d like to come with,” Logan says, and Virgil takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes.

“Okay,” he says. He takes a few more deep breaths, and as Logan opens his mouth to break the silence, he says, “Pain says we can come on through.”

He takes Logan’s hand, and Logan breathes in sharply, almost pulling away. But his room is fading out, and he doesn’t want to know what will happen if he lets go of Virgil’s hand while the walls are warping around them.

* * *

The world is dark when it stabilises again, and Logan starts to freak out immediately. Which is strange, because he’s never really been afraid of the dark. He hears Virgil heave a sigh.

“Dammit, Pain,” Virgil says. “Where’s-- ah.”

Virgil lets go of Logan, and fear seizes his lungs. He can’t breathe. There’s a scuffling sound, and a yelp of pain, and then Virgil crows,

“Gotcha! Turn the lights on, you little shit. C’mon.”

“Jeez, okay, okay,” says a new voice, and Logan wants to _run_.

As usual, his mind keeps working in the background, helpfully telling him all about how running won’t help anything since he doesn’t know where he is, and--

Someone snaps, and dim blue light begins filtering in from somewhere high above them. Logan is now even more afraid to breathe. He sees Virgil’s silhouette in profile, and then his sight goes dark again. Someone has their hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” says a voice, playful and sinister.

“Pain--” Virgil starts to say.

“C’mon, Anx, let me have a _little_ fun with him?”

“Who are you,” Logan chokes out. “ _What_ are you?”

The voice laughs. Goosebumps prickle on Logan’s neck, oddly painful, and then Logan’s eyes are uncovered, and he can see again. His lungs are burning. He hears his heartbeat roaring in his ears like waves, once, twice, three times, and then--

“Oh, sweet Logic,” says the voice, and Logan can see a face now, illuminated just well enough to show a huge, sharklike grin, full of inhumanly sharp teeth. “You know me.”

“No, I don’t,” Logan denies. Does he? Does he know this feeling, seeping into his body like a glacier, unnervingly slow and still somehow taking over in seconds?

“But you do,” says Pain. His whole face is illuminated now, and Logan sees a white light hanging just above his forehead. “After all, I am what’s at the bottom of the ocean.”

Pain’s eyes are black. No iris. No pupils. Just black, like there’s a void where they should be.

And then suddenly Logan can breathe again, and the room is fully lit, and Virgil is standing by a wall frozen in place. Logan watches him unfreeze, and then Pain is laughing his ass off and holding a hand out for a high five.

“Hell yes, man,” Pain says. “God, did you see his face? You need to bring friends around more often, what the hell.”

His smile is pretty normal, which is strange; Logan vividly remembers rows and rows of teeth, and a mouth that stretched across a wider section of face than it had any right to. But then Virgil glares at Pain, and the grin morphs into sharpness.

“Logan is off-limits,” Virgil says, and Pain bursts out laughing. He has too many teeth again. Logan notices there isn’t a door in this room and then wishes he could un-notice it.

“Cute!” Pain declares. “Aw, man, Verge. Come over tomorrow night? I miss you, man.”

“I’m busy tomorrow night,” Virgil says, looking at Logan. “Anyway, we need to find Sexuality.”

Logan has calmed down enough to actually look around, and Pain’s room looks... surprisingly normal. The walls are a deep blue-green, and there’s a fish tank in the corner. Pain himself has dark turquoise hair, and his eyes are a little less terrifying surrounded by light.

“Have you always looked like this?” Logan asks, because he is physically incapable of leaving well enough alone.

“You mean dashing and sharp?” Pain says, kicking one leg into the air, and Logan watches with a blank face because he has no idea what emotion he should put on it. He feels very out of place here. “Nope! This happened to me after. Poor Verge got the short end of the beauty stick.”

Pain ruffles Virgil’s hair, and Virgil glares at him, pulling his hood up and swatting Pain’s hands away. Pain starts laughing again.

“I disagree,” Logan says, and Pain stops laughing.

“I sure hope you don’t insult Sexuality like that,” he says. The lights dim just a little bit. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Pain kicks the wall, and the vent cover crashes open.

Logan frowns.

“...Through there?”

“We don’t have hallways down here,” Pain says, with a smile that looks glued on and fake. “It adds to the charm and quaintness, though, don’t you think?”

Distantly, Logan notices that there’s obnoxious pop music playing from a tinny speaker set into the wall near Pain’s hammock, which seems to be standing in for a bed.

“Is he messing with me?” Logan asks, looking at Virgil, and Virgil shakes his head. “Great.”

Logan bends down, and crawls into the vent, very thankful that he isn’t claustrophobic.

* * *

Logan taps on the vent cover.

“Who’s there?”

Logan clears his throat.

“Logic and Anxiety,” he says. The vent opens, and Logan crawls out onto the light grey shag carpet.

“Hello.”

Logan looks at the gloved hand, then follows the arm up to a masked face. He takes the offered hand and stands up.

“Your room is very grey,” he says, and helps Virgil up from the floor. “The carpet is soft, I like it.”

“Thanks,” Sexuality says tonelessly. “It matches the drapes.”

He’s wearing a thin turtleneck under a crop-top and leggings under a skirt, and Logan can’t see an inch of his skin. He can’t even see his eyes; the mask has netting in the eye holes. His hair is so white it’s almost translucent.

Logan looks around to see that the drapes are indeed the same shade of grey as the carpet. There are long, heavy curtains covering a section of the wall to the left of Sexuality’s bed.

“Do you have windows down here?” Logan asks.

“Yes,” Sexuality says. “That’s what the curtains are for. Why are you here? Virgil?”

Virgil swallows. Logan can see his hands shaking.

“I should have visited,” he says.

“Yes,” Sexuality agrees. “You should have. You didn’t. Darling.”

“Logan wants to learn to put eyeliner on,” Virgil says. He won’t look at Sexuality. “I-- I’m sorry. We’re both different now.”

“I’m different,” Sexuality says. “I’m nothing. You still should have visited. You didn’t know I was different. You didn’t speak to me. You didn’t check.”

“I should have,” Virgil says. His voice shakes.

“Yes, you should have,” Sexuality agrees. “You didn’t. I don’t blame you. I’m not that exciting anymore.”

“Perce--”

“Shut up.”

“Sexuality,” Virgil amends. “I missed you... I just...”

“You missed what I used to be,” Sexuality says sharply. “And you knew who had that, didn’t you. So you decided he’d be your target. You pathetic-- you--”

“That’s not why,” Virgil says. He sounds angry now. “So maybe he was a jerk, maybe he had no reason to be as proud as he was, but--”

“I have no reason to be proud either,” Sexuality says. “So here we are.”

“Thomas is proud of you,” Logan interjects, and Virgil winces.

Sexuality turns to him.

“Yes, I’m sure Roman is very proud of himself,” he says. “Good for him. I didn’t ask.”

“I mean-- Thomas is glad that you’re the way you are. He likes you. Or-- if he met you, he would. He’d be thrilled.”

Sexuality is silent for a long moment.

“You are Logic?” he says, and Logan nods. “Why?”

“Presumably because Thomas needs a side to deal in Reasons--”

“No, I mean why do you want to learn to put on eyeliner?”

Logan bites his lip.

“It’s embarrassing,” he says.

“I will not help you if I don’t know your reason for seeking help.”

“I’ve been interested for a while,” Logan admits. “In makeup and its application. But the opportunity never arose until recently.”

“Answer the question, Logic,” Sexuality says. “I know it’s difficult for all of us, but I thought you might be a little better at giving a straight answer.”

Logan almost doesn’t catch the pun.

“I want to be able to apply it myself whenever I want.”

“Why?”

Logan glares.

“Because I like it,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I will teach you,” Sexuality says. He reaches up to his mask and Logan finds his breath catching as Sexuality pauses.

He turns around, then removes the mask, and Logan hears him take a deep breath.

“Holy shit,” Virgil says. “Percy, are you sure about--”

“That’s not my name,” Sexuality says coldly. “Please go away, Virgil. I assure you, Logan will return unharmed, in a timely manner. I don’t need to have worries about this.”

Virgil slumps, and then looks to Logan. Logan nods.

Virgil sinks out, and Sexuality turns to the side. His eyes are shut, but Logan can see enough:

He’s clear. Transparent. Like he’s made of glass.

“This is a secret,” Sexuality says, and Logan shuts his mouth. Sexuality opens his eyes, turning the rest of the way around.

“How can you see if your retinas are transparent?” Logan asks, and then he covers his mouth, ears burning with embarrassment.

Sexuality smiles, and slips his gloves off. His hands are clear as well.

“You are a very interesting person, Logan,” he says. He tilts his head to the side. “I think I would like to be your friend.”

“Alright,” Logan says. “That sounds nice. I’m sorry if I... offended you, with--”

“I don’t see,” Sexuality interrupts, pulling his crop-top off to take the turtleneck off as well. His torso is the same as the rest of his body. “Not anymore.”

Logan’s jaw drops. He has so many questions, but for once, he holds his tongue. He doesn’t want to be rude.

“You’re curious,” Sexuality says, putting the crop-top back on, and Logan nods, and then remembers. Oops.

“Yes?” he says.

“I can tell everything that happens within my room,” Sexuality says, snapping his fingers. His leggings disappear, leaving just the skirt. “Every tiny movement, every heartbeat... which mine doesn’t anymore, by the way.”

He crosses over to the curtains and throws them open; Logan thinks he looks a little reckless, doing so, but not in a bad way. More like he’s free.

Light streams in, and Sexuality _sparkles_.

“Holy fuck,” Logan says. Sexuality smirks, and the tiny movement casts rainbows across every surface of the room.

“You’re impressed,” he says. “I like feeling that. How... how _do_ I look, Logan?”

“Rainbow,” Logan says. “You’re like a prism.”

Sexuality smiles.

“That sounds... nice. I can’t _see_ the colours, but I know... they’re still just as beautiful. _I’m_ still...”

“Eye-catching,” Logan suggests.

“Yes,” Sexuality says. “I’m just as beautiful, _and_ I’m eye-catching now. Wow.”

“Duh,” Logan says, and Sexuality frowns. “I mean. You’re saying these things as though they’re a revelation.”

Sexuality sighs. The rainbows shiver, and then settle back down.

“Logan,” he says, “I have not opened those curtains since I moved into this room and put them there. I can count the number of times I’ve taken the mask off on one hand. I’m not sure why, but it feels like I can be... different, now. Less afraid. Or not less _afraid_ , because I’m still afraid. And I don’t know what the others will say when they see. But... I feel less like letting that make me hide. I can’t hide anymore.”

“I thought you-- I didn’t think-- Thomas has never tried to hide you,” Logan says. He’s confused.

“I wanted to hide,” Sexuality says. “I still want to hide. I guess I didn’t get the memo. Thomas is proud of me?”

“Of course,” Logan says. “You-- how could he not be? He talks about it all the time.”

Sexuality doesn’t say anything for a very long time.

“What does he call me?”

Logan frowns, a little confused.

“Well... Thomas is gay,” he says. “Is that what you’re asking?”

“Gale,” Sexuality says. He runs a clear hand through his white hair and smiles. “Oh jeez, I’m gonna cry. I haven’t had a name in _years_.”

“Sometimes you have to cry,” Logan says. He learned that from Patton very recently. “It’s okay. Gale is a very good name. It’s meaningful. Like a gust of wind blowing away your covering. Bringing change.”

“Oh my god,” Gale says, very quietly. He wipes at his eyes, and his fingers come away glittery. “My tears are powder,” he says, chuckling weakly.

“Glitter,” Logan corrects, and Gale bursts out laughing.

“Oh my god,” he says. “That’s-- wow. Who would’ve guessed, right? Wow.”

Logan smiles.

“You’re pretty cool,” he says.

“I can try and teach you eyeliner now,” Gale says. “Wow. Uh... here.”

He snaps his fingers, and a mirror appears on the wall.

“I guess you’ll need that,” he says, waving his hand. The second drawer in his dresser opens and a bag floats out. “I wonder how well all my makeup lasted, I haven’t touched it in forever.”

“Why did you keep it?” Logan asks.

“I had lost enough of myself already,” Gale says, and there’s a story there. Logan can feel it, and he wants it badly, but... now isn’t the right time. He doesn’t ask. “Hm.”

Gale is digging through the bag, facing towards the wall with a blank expression on his face.

“What?”

“What colours are in this palette?” he asks, taking out a flat thing and opening it; it has a hinge.

Logan squints.

“Pink,” he says. “Many different pinks, and... brown? Sparkly brownish tan? And--”

“Oh, good,” Gale says, shutting it with a click. “I was worried all my makeup had turned monochrome.”

“What words do people use to talk about makeup colours?” Logan asks, because he feels weird being unable to describe the colours of makeup effectively.

“Oh, all kinds,” Gale says, digging through the bag again. He heaves a frustrated sigh and snaps his fingers, and a cylinder the same width as a pencil flies into his hand. “Okay, stand by the mirror. Have you worn makeup before?”

“Just once,” Logan says, feeling shy and awkward. “Or... twice? Roman and Virgil used me to have a makeover competition.”

“So Roman is doing makeup now,” Gale says frigidly, and Logan grimaces, alarmed. He hadn’t meant to bring up Roman. “That’s... interesting. Stupid fucking shitty prince, he’s probably even _good_ at it--”

“I didn’t like his,” Logan says. “He used too much, it felt icky on my face. And there was so much purple.”

Gale smirks.

“How did Virgil do?” he asks.

“Better,” Logan says. “He just used eyeliner and lipstick, so of course I preferred it. I still looked like myself.”

“You and him--” Gale cuts himself off, and Logan swallows. He feels his face flushing. “Increased heart rate,” Gale muses. “Well. That tells me everything I need to know.”

“I keep wanting to kiss him?” Logan says, flustered. “I-- it’s weird, I don’t understand it. But he does literally anything and I can’t not think about it.”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Gale says. “Seriously, please don’t worry. Paige would back me up if he were here.”

“Paige?” Logan asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Pain,” Gale says, and Logan nods. “Virgil is just like that. Anyway. This is liquid eyeliner. It’s easier to use because you don’t need to apply as much pressure to put it on. You’re gonna put it on the very edge of your eyelid, and the easiest way to learn is to just try it, so go ahead.”

Logan turns halfway towards the mirror, then back to Gale.

“So I just--”

“Yup,” Gale says. “Go ahead. If it sucks you can just wipe it off.”

Logan sees the logic in that, so he turns back to the mirror, takes a deep breath, and uncaps the eyeliner.

“Oh shoot,” he says. “Should I keep my glasses on...?”

“Nah, they’ll get in the way,” Gale says.

Logan makes a face, and takes his glasses off, hanging them on his shirt.

“Um,” he says, “Problem: I can’t see now.”

Gale snaps his fingers, and the mirror changes so that it sort of magnifies Logan’s face.

“Eye doctors have these,” Gale says proudly. “I’ve never manifested one before, but I think I got it right. How’d I do?”

“Wow,” Logan says. “That’s much better. Thank you. It’d probably be impossible for me to do this with a regular mirror, I’d have to get so close to it that the end of the eyeliner would hit the mirror as I tried to use it.”

He still has to get in close, but there’s enough room for him to hold the eyeliner perpendicular to his eyelid. He pauses, because Gale is snickering behind him.

“What?” he asks.

“You’ll want to tilt it a little,” Gale says. “Use the shape of the tip to help you. You should be trying to line it up with the edge of your eyelid. It’s long like that for a reason.”

Logan tilts his hand, and then... draws. He tries to copy what Virgil did, but it ends up looking weird.

“Oh dear,” he says. He can see his cheeks turning red in the mirror. “That isn’t good. Do you have wipes?”

Gale snaps his fingers.

“You’ll get better,” he says. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Logan wipes off the eyeliner and tries to hand the pencil to Gale, but Gale just stands behind him and puts his hand over Logan’s.

“Focus on remembering how I move it, okay?” Gale says, and Logan nods, shutting his right eye.

Gale’s hand is cold, and his skin feels smooth and soft. Logan watches him draw a perfect line onto his eyelid and then hesitate.

“Do you want a wing?” he asks.

“Is that when you go out further than the edge?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, please,” Logan says.

“There.”

It’s intimidatingly perfect. Logan can’t wait to try on his left eye.

It takes him fifteen tries to be satisfied.

“Good job,” Gale says. “And-- wow, oh my god, thank you. This is... will you help me show everyone else how I am? Like... compliment me in front of Roman?”

Logan makes a face.

“Is it important to you?” he asks.

Gale nods.

“Alright.”

“Thank you,” Gale says. “Seriously, this is... I feel better than I have in a long time. Also more scared, but... better, still.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Logan says. “It was... good, to meet you.”

“You too,” Gale says. “Visit me again, okay? We can plan everything out. It’ll be great.”

Logan finds himself smiling.

“Of course,” he says. “That sounds great.”

* * *

Logan helps Gale come out around christmastime, and it’s... very fun. Logan finds himself saying things he never thought he would say (probably due to Deceit’s absence), but he doesn’t think he messed anything up.

And then it’s New Year’s Eve. Memory and Hunger drop by to try and coach Virgil in chess, but soon Memory loses their patience, and the two of them leave. Virgil loses, and they start a new game. It’s nice. Logan has missed playing with him in the past couple of weeks.

Deceit comes in at some point, but Logan is too focussed on the chess game to pay much attention. It’s strange. Virgil plays very well. Logan wants to capture his knights even though that’s silly.

“Checkmate,” Virgil says, and Logan--

_Kiss him!_

Logan kisses him.

Logan kisses Virgil, and then immediately realises what he’s done, and pushes him away again.

“I apologise,” he says, heart racing, cheeks burning. Why did he do that? Why did he _do_ that? “I don’t know why I did that.”

“You could do it again, if you wanted,” Virgil says, and Logan wants to. He wants to so very badly.

He swallows. His stomach feels funny, and he can’t seem to untense his muscles. He’s vaguely aware of Sleep saying something cutting, but his focus has tunneled in on Virgil even though he can’t seem to make eye contact.

“I-- No, I--”

“Oh.”

“I can’t, I-- I need to think about this. I wasn’t going to kiss you. I’m sorry. I just need to think.”

“It’s okay,” Virgil says, but Logan can tell that it’s really not.

“I want to,” Logan says impulsively. “Kiss you again. But-- I need to-- I just need to think. Feelings are hard. So-- not yet.”

“Alright,” Virgil says.

* * *

Logan lets his snippet of kpop play on repeat as he thinks; he wants to listen to something with lyrics right now, but not lyrics he understands, so they can’t distract him.

Virgil.

 _He kissed Virgil_.

Not just that, but he wants to do it again. It’s weird. He asks Gale about it, and Gale says he should just talk to Virgil about it. So Logan looks for Virgil.

* * *

Logan knocks on Patton’s door. Roman answers.

“Oh, hello, Roman,” Logan says. “Have you seen Virgil? He doesn’t seem to be in his room.”

“I think he’s hanging out with some of the deep sides right now,” Roman says. “Is that all?”

“What are you doing in Patton’s room?”

“Rehearsing a play.”

Roman shuts the door, and Logan heaves a sigh. He heads to Virgil’s door and sits down just outside, taking his cards out of his pocket and setting up a game of solitaire to kill time. But he can’t bring himself to play. It feels too weird, without Virgil.

Logan wishes he had brought one of his jars with him.

Virgil comes along eventually, and stops short when he sees Logan.

 _Do you want to play solitaire?_ is what Logan plans to say. It seems like a good excuse to spend time with Virgil, and talk about kissing him (about maybe kissing him again).

But something happens to the words between his brain and his mouth, and Logan ends up saying:

“Do you want to hang out?”

Virgil stares for a moment, and then a smile creeps slowly onto his face.

“I thought you’d never ask.”


	4. (Life Is Way Too Short To) Take It Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9623 words
> 
> Roman is confronted with his past mistakes and has to relearn what it means to be a good person. He gets his heart ripped out of his chest, like, twice, and at one point he plunges into the unknown to rescue Patton from a terrible fate. Despite all the pain and suffering, it's worth it in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... several announcements:
> 
> This is the first half of a 16,000 word monstrosity that I originally intended to post as chapter 4. This means there will be a pretty annoying cliffhanger at the end of the chapter. You know how last chapter I said there'll only be a sixth chapter if things go completely off the rails? Yeah. That happened. I'll post chapter 5, which is also about Roman... at some point. I have finals coming up, so I'm not sure if I want to post it next week or the week after.
> 
> And in the chapter 2 AN I said I probably wouldn't break 50,000 words... That happened too. This is a novel-length story and I'm kind of shocked. :DDD I can't wait to show you guys the rest of it!
> 
> I know how the story ends now, and I can conclusively promise a happy ending! Yay!!
> 
> I've been ITCHING to post the first scene of this chapter for almost two weeks! It's finally here!
> 
> I barely proofread this chapter, it's been a busy fuckin' day. title is from when can i see you again by owl city
> 
> WARNINGS: internalised homophobia
> 
> This chapter contains a scene that was in chapter 3 from a different POV. I did my best to make it as engaging as I could, but if it's boring to go over the same thing again, please let me know. Also, I haven't proofread this chapter as much as I proofread the others, so let me know if you find any typoes. Enjoy!

“Patton! I have arrived,” Roman says, bursting into Patton’s room with a flourish. “What is tonight’s plan?”

“Monopoly,” Patton says, smiling, and Roman can’t help smiling back.

“Well, I shall surely win!” he declares. “Who else will be joining us tonight?”

As if on cue, there’s a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Patton calls out sweetly.

 _Memory_ , Roman thinks. Or-- wait, no, Memory said that. How confusing.

Memory comes in, and Roman studies him a little dubiously.

Memory is wearing a skirt-- and, okay, that’s a very adventurous choice, which Roman must approve of. But his eyes... His eyes are slightly bigger than any of the other sides’. It’s a little bit creepy.

“Hunger will be here soon,” Memory says. “She’s--”

“She?” Roman asks, and then feels like sort of an asshole for sounding so surprised.

“Yes,” Memory says coolly.

“What are your pronouns, kiddo?” Patton asks, and Memory turns-- they turn their unnerving gaze onto him.

“You’re probably the only one up here who could call me that,” Memory says. “As for pronouns... it/its, they/them, or she/her. Any neopronouns the two of you happen to scrounge up out of your pitiful brains are also acceptable, and switch it up as much as possible.”

“O-oh,” Patton says. “Well... Okay.”

Another side bursts in, and Roman assumes this one is Hunger. She’s wearing a mindspace version of Thomas’s pizza shirt, and fuzzy sweatpants patterned with pizza.

“Heyo!” she says. “I’m here, I’m queer, and I’m ready to fucking party! Did anyone bring snacks?”

“No,” Memory says, and Hunger makes a face.

“Sad!” she says. “So, monopoly? Why monopoly?”

“Why now?” Memory asks. Their eyes are watching Roman, and he notices that they don’t ever blink.

“I didn’t know you existed before,” Roman says. It feels like he’s making excuses.

“You knew me when I was only Curiosity,” Memory says. “What did you think happened to me?”

Roman swallows.

“I thought you faded,” he says quietly. His hands twitch at his sides, and he kind of wants to give them a hug, but he can’t quite reconcile this person with the one he knew. “What really happened? How did you... become this?”

“Curiosity isn’t really only my job anymore,” Memory says. “Logan was taking it over, so I found something else to do too. That’s what we are. The deep sides. Sides who were fading, getting too strong, or being absorbed, and attached themselves to a function of Thomas’s brain.”

“You kicked me down here,” Hunger says cheerfully. “With all your big dreams. I had a name picked out and everything before, you know.”

Roman blinks, and Hunger continues.

“It’s probably just because Thomas is a man too that you got to stick around the surface. So it’s not your fault. I try not to be mad about it. But I want you to know, Roman Sanders, I am going to _crush_ you in this monopoly game. So you better give it your all!”

Roman has never been referred to with Thomas’s last name before.

“At least you can still--” Memory starts to say say, and Hunger shushes them.

“No, no, don’t give it away! That’s not our secret!”

“What?” Patton asks. “Still what?”

Memory and Hunger look back at him with perfect poker faces (well, Memory’s is perfect. Hunger looks a little guilty).

“Oh, you can’t tell me,” Patton says. “Well, alright. What do you guys do? Are you happy with your lives?”

“Happy enough,” Hunger says. “I always want more, though.”

“She’s never satisfied,” Memory says.

“That’s probably the real reason why,” Roman says. “I mean-- Thomas decided he didn’t want to always be dissatisfied with his accomplishments. Not--”

“You’re actually wrong,” Hunger says. “But that’s fine. Like... Thomas wanted to use the things he knew instead of just learning more and more and more. So Cur-- Memory went down, and Logan got to be in charge of knowledge stuff on the surface.”

“And I get to know everything,” Memory says smugly. “Logan’s pretty easy to use, too. So I can learn new things almost whenever I want.”

“Let’s set up monopoly,” Hunger says, snapping her fingers and manifesting a monopoly game.

“What’s your name?” Patton asks suddenly, and Roman blinks, surprised. “Do either of you have a different name that you want to tell us?”

“Helga,” Hunger says, and Roman raises his eyebrows, because that’s the name he suggested for Thomas’s fake girlfriend back during thanksgiving.

“I just call her pumpkin, though,” Memory says, smirking. It’s the most human they’ve looked all night. “I’m Mnemosyne, but don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” Roman asks.

“Limiting men makes me feel powerful,” Memory says. “Like a Goddess, which I basically am. I’m gonna kick all of your asses in Scrabble.”

“We’re playing monopoly,” Helga mutters, and Memory rolls their eyes and snaps her fingers. The monopoly board turns into scrabble. “Oh, come on. You always do this!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, pumpkin,” Memory says innocently.

“Yes you do,” Helga complains. “You know the exact date and time of every single time you’ve done this exact thing.”

“I don’t mind playing scrabble,” Patton says, trying to dissolve what may or may not be an emerging argument, and Roman feels his heart go soft.

“I don’t mind either,” he says, even though he does sort of mind, and would have argued, and Helga looks sharply at him, like she knows. It doesn’t matter, though. Roman is going to wait until things with Deceit get resolved a little better, but as soon as the time is right, he will seize his opportunity. And Patton will say yes. Roman is certain of it; he sees the way Patton looks at him.

So they play scrabble. Memory starts off strong, playing HUNGERS horizontally with the E on the center space, and Patton adds PUPPY, using a blank tile for one of the Ps. Roman looks down at his NEUDEQO and thinks for a moment, then adds NUDES. Helga tries to connect SEND to the start of it, but Patton glares at her until she desists (the S would have hung off the edge of the board anyway). In the end, she adds YUM to the Y in PUPPY.

Memory tries to turn YUM into DAYUM, and then looks at the others like she expects them to argue, but Roman just smiles and holds out his hand for a fistbump. Memory eyes the fist dubiously, and tentatively bumps their fist against his.

“Nice one.”

“Thanks.”

Patton adds MOVER to the M in DAYUM, narrowly missing the bottom triple word score, and Roman snaps it up, spelling CROWN with Patton’s R.

Then Helga plays ADULT around the U in NUDES, and Patton gasps excitedly. Oh no.

Memory smirks, turning CROWN into CROWNLESS and rendering the bottom right triple word score unusable, and then Patton practically vibrates as he adds ERY onto ADULT.

“I made a big word!” he declares, and Roman sighs. He plays YEET onto ADULTERY.

Helga plays ELAPSE between the Es in NUDES and YEET, using the second blank tile for the P.

Memory turns ELAPSE into RELAPSE by playing RRNA with the R in HUNGERS, and then assures Helga that it’s a scientific term when she tries to argue.

“But you turned my cool word into like, a bad thing! We don’t want relapse!”

“That’s just the way the cookie crumbles in this game, Helga,” Patton says, spelling out LOL and DO by putting an O at the intersection of RELAPSE, NUDES, and ADULTERY, and Roman smiles. Patton sure loves cookies. “Your turn, Roman.”

Roman turns DO into DOE, spelling out TEA between RELAPSE and ADULTERY.

“Hey, good thing Pain isn’t here,” Helga says, turning TEA into TEAL. “Sorry about your tea, Roman. It was just too hot for me.”

“Why is it good Pain isn’t here?” Patton asks.

“He hates the word teal.”

Memory rolls their eyes and-- wow, fuck, they play XANTHAN onto HUNGERS, situating the X on a triple letter score (and also forming PA).

“What the fuck?” Roman says. “No, oh my god, what the fuck! Is that even a word?”

“Xanthan gum,” Helga supplies. “It’s in salad dressing and toothpaste.”

“Sweet mother of the dragon witch, that is ludicrous,” Roman says weakly. He’s not going to win this game.

“Hey,” says Patton, playing ZOOS onto the last S in CROWNLESS. “Where do you keep a dragon witch anyway?”

Roman frowns, certain there’s a pun in there somewhere. He can’t seem to find it.

“Where?”

Patton glances at the scrabble board, and Roman furrows his brow.

“Y’know--”

“Oh! Zoo! Patton, you genius.”

Patton smiles, and Roman looks away before he can get too distracted.

“I think it’s about time I used this Q,” he says, playing QUE onto the E in CROWNLESS.  
“It’s a word in Spanish, get off my case.”

“Wow, if I had known we were allowing other languages I would’ve played UPPY-PAY,” Patton says, and Roman rolls his eyes, but laughs anyway.

And then Helga, holding back giggles, places an F to the left of the V in MOVER.

“What,” Memory says, and Helga bursts out laughing, picking up another tile from her rack.

“Just wait,” she says. “Wait for it.”

She puts a C on the other side of the V, creating FVC.

“I don’t get it,” Memory says impatiently, and then Helga puts down an I tile with a less-than shape drawn on it in eyeliner to make it look like a K.

“AYYY!!!” Memory shouts. “Up top!”

They and Helga high five, and Roman heaves a sigh.

“You can’t change the letter on a tile,” he complains. “And that’s not even how you spell--”

“Let her say fuck!” Memory says in a scandalised tone of voice, and because Roman is looking at the board and not at Memory, he frowns slightly and actually considers it for a moment.

“Hey!” he says, when he realises. “You need to make it more clear when you’re talking!”

“Let her say fvck,” Patton says, pronouncing the V.

“Fine,” Roman says. “Ugh. I’m playing with a troupe of clowns!”

Memory sighs.

“I’m gonna keep it real with you guys,” she says. “My entire rack is the letter I.”

“Wow,” Patton says, smiling the smile that means he’s about to make a pun. “What big eyes you have!”

Memory elbows him, and primly sets down one of their seven I tiles at the corner of RELAPSE and TEAL to create PI and LI.

“This is a pathetic move,” they say with a sigh. “But it’s all I’ve got.”

They take another tile from the bag.

“FUCK! Another I? Seriously?”

Helga bursts out laughing. Patton plays OWO just below DAYUM, spelling out DO as well, and Roman sits up straight, looking at his tiles, MKEVRAE. Hm. MAKE, MAR, MARE, RAVE, VER, KEMAR (not technically a word, but it sounds like quemar, so he thinks of it anyway). MAKE and VER have promise... MAKEOVER! Roman places his tiles on the board so quickly he almost drops them, and then he looks up. Memory is looking at the board with their mouth hanging open. Roman’s word overlaps with two triple word scores. He looks at the scores.

“I don’t know how much this is worth,” he says. “But I’m pretty sure I’m in the lead now.”

“203 points,” Memory says, sounding like she’s in physical pain from admitting it. “Don’t worry, I’ll still beat you.”

“You have a rack full of Is,” Helga says, putting the cap on her eyeliner and sticking it stealthily into her purse. “You can’t win every scrabble game, babe.”

“What are the scores?” Roman asks pointedly, filling his rack back up. “Also, I just emptied the bag, so the game’s over.”

“I have 169, Patton has 90, you have 283, and Helga has 49, but she’s taken one less turn than everyone else. So the game isn’t over yet, Roman. She still has to go.”

“I think I’ll take my turn now,” Helga says. “And before any of you complain, I’d like to remind you all that there is established precedent within this game for what I’m about to do. So you have to let me. So there.”

She spells out APAREJO (the O spells MO with the M in MAKEOVER), but the P tile is actually just an F that’s been turned into a P with eyeliner.

“That P counts for 4 points because it says 4 on it and not 3 like a regular P, as we agreed when I spelled FUCK, and it’s also been agreed that Spanish words are allowed. So that’s going to be... 92 points for me. Thanks!”

Roman looks to Patton, since he’s the one being overtaken by this manoeuvre, but he just looks excited.

“That’s awesome!” he says, and Helga smiles.

“Thanks. It is pretty cool, isn’t it.”

“Good game,” Roman says, holding his hand out to Memory, and she shakes his hand very civilly, still not blinking, still staring that disconcerting stare.

“It was,” they say, voice level. Their expression is inscrutable as they snap their fingers, and the scrabble board morphs into a monopoly set, which is configured like it would be at the end of a game. There is play money scattered across the board. “I will beat you next time, though. No last minute makeover will stop me.”

“Oh!” Patton says. “Roman, you’re good at makeup, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Roman says, looking at him curiously as Helga snaps to unmanifest the monopoly game. “I am. Why do you ask?”

“Do you think you could give me a makeover?”

“Yes! Definitely! Absolutely!” Roman says, snapping his fingers to summon his makeup bag. “I most certainly can--”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Hey,” says Sleep’s voice, and Roman hides behind Patton as he comes in; he’d prefer not to lose his second kiss as well to this... this... strange leather-clad rebel. “I can’t believe that for once it isn’t Anxiety causing the trouble. You guys need to calm things down. I feel like doing my job tonight, so I’ll be kind of pissed if I can’t because of you.”

“Roman was going to give me a makeover, though,” Patton says, pouting, and Sleep takes an unsympathetic slurp of his tea.

“You can do that in the morning. And honestly, Hunger? Memory? I expected better, ladies. You know I have to--”

“Calm your tits,” Helga says, rolling her eyes, and Sleep tilts his head forward to look at her sternly, letting his shades slide down his nose just a bit. “How were we supposed to know you’d choose tonight of all nights to be responsible? It was an accident. We’ll go now, right Mossy?”

Patton squeals.

“Mossy! That’s so cute--”

“You aren’t allowed to call me that,” Memory says, but Patton isn’t discouraged.

“Still! That’s adorable, you two are just so sweet! Roman, hold me, I think I’m gonna explode.”

“Romeo has to get back to his room,” Sleep says, and Roman bristles, putting his arms around Patton possessively, still hiding behind him as much as possible.

“It’s Roman,” he says. “And I--”

“Don’t care!” Sleep says. “Just get out! All of you, clear out back to your rooms.”

“Hey Sleep,” Patton says. “I have a question, you said you’ve kissed us all before, so why don’t we remember it?”

“Deceit,” Sleep says. “Duh. Can you two please quit your canoodling now? I’d really prefer to think of literally anything else when I’m making the dreams.”

“You make the dreams?”

“Enough!” says Sleep. He raises his hand to snap his fingers, and Roman panics, sinking out back to his room before Sleep can snap.

That was so stressful, and he didn’t even get to tell Patton goodnight!

* * *

The next morning, Patton wakes him up bright and early (at 10 AM), excited about the prospect of makeovers, and Roman can’t even pretend to be annoyed about it. He sets up shop in the kitchen because of its wide counters and tall seats, and sets to work.

Patton is beautiful. Roman knows this. He knows that Patton has sweet brown eyes, a gorgeous smile, fluffy hair, and an even fluffier personality, and even though he doesn’t typically approve of styles different from his own, there’s something charming about Patton’s silly dad fashion. Also, he makes Roman laugh, which is an immeasurably valuable contribution.

Knowing all of this does not make it any less distracting to have to _look_ at him while he applies makeup.

Roman feels his face flushing, and his hands are shakier than they have any right to be. It makes the whole makeup thing sort of hard, but he’s trying his best.

Logan comes in while he’s doing and redoing Patton’s eyeliner, trying to make it perfect, and Patton sends him off to play solitaire. It makes some selfish part of Roman very satisfied, to see Patton send Logan away without a second thought, as though he values this time alone with Roman as much as Roman does. Roman hopes so.

And then he’s done, and Patton is smiling as he looks in the mirror, and Roman feels jittery and anxious because he still hasn’t said anything--

“I love it,” Patton says, and he looks at Roman, eyes shining, smiling brightly. “This is wonderful. I have to-- I have to go now, but this is amazing.”

Roman smiles.

“Of course! Have fun with whatever adventure you leave to embark upon now!”

Patton heads up the stairs, and then, a moment later, the vent cover in the ceiling falls to the ground with a crash, and Roman flinches back.

“We’re falling apart!” he exclaims, and then someone dressed head to toe in black is hanging out of the vent. For a moment, Roman thinks it’s Virgil, but Virgil is busy playing solitaire, and probably wouldn’t be wearing a skirt. Or maybe he would. Roman doesn’t know.

“It’s just a two foot drop,” says Helga from inside the vents. “You’ll be okay, I promise.”

The new side lets go, and then staggers as he lands. Roman puts a hand on his back to steady him, and feels him flinch at the touch.

“Sorry about that,” Roman says. “Just trying to help, I didn’t want you to fall.”

The new side scoots over until he bumps into the corner of the counter, and then leans on it. Helga swings down out of the vent and lands in a crouch, then snaps her fingers, putting the vent cover back in its place.

“Hey, Roman,” Helga says, and the new side stiffens.

“Hello,” Roman says, looking over the new side curiously. “Who’s this?”

The masked side is facing him, but Roman can’t see their eyes. He can’t see any part of their body.

“Sexuality,” Helga says, moving towards the new side as she speaks. She nudges him, and he grabs onto her elbow in relief. He looks a little less tense. “He heard we were making substantial contact with the light sides and decided to, um... confront you.”

“Sexuality!” Roman says, delighted, sticking his hand out for a handshake. “Wow, that’s wonderful! It’s great to meet you!”

Sexuality doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and he doesn’t shake Roman’s hand either. He’s still just holding onto Helga’s elbow.

“I usually don’t leave my room,” he says, and Roman lets his hand fall back to his side. “I have a hard time being outside of it. But I wanted to speak to you.”

“Okay,” Roman says, puffing his chest out proudly. “Of course. Would you like to see my room? I have--”

“No,” Sexuality says. Helga winces. “Roman Sanders. You are the only upper side who caused two sides to become deep sides instead of just one.”

Roman blinks, taken aback.

“Oh,” he says. “I--”

“I had almost pushed Deceit all the way down when you started absorbing Ambition,” Helga says. “So-- I had to bond to Hunger instead of him. He and I are honestly sort of in between. And then you--”

“You absorbed Pride. You did it so quick,” Sexuality says. His voice breaks. “I didn’t have time to-- to anchor myself before--”

“What are you talking about?” Roman asks in alarm. “I-- what?”

“You almost killed me,” Sexuality says. “This-- I thought this would be cathartic. Nevermind. I just feel worse. I’m going.”

He takes a step away from the counter and trips, but catches himself on Helga, and she helps him back up.

“Wait,” Roman says. “I don’t-- I’ll apologise. If I hurt you, I want to apologise. But I don’t understand what I did.”

“I just want Pride back,” Sexuality says, and Roman frowns.

“But-- that’s one of _my_ traits,” he says. “I-- I don’t see how I could--”

“I was Pride!” Sexuality exclaims. “You’re-- you’re supposed to do it slowly! You’re supposed to let me slip under and tie myself to a brain function instead of absorbing the entire trait on your own in a matter of weeks! We could have both had it, and now it’s just yours. I hate you. You did this to me, you-- you greedy, identity stealing egomaniac. I don’t have _anything_. I’m not supposed to be this way.”

“Sexuality,” Helga says. “Sexuality, that’s enough. Look at his face, he looks very, very sorry.”

Sexuality hesitates.

“Is he?”

“Yes,” Helga says.

“I am,” Roman says. “I... I still don’t understand. But I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t realise I was doing anything--”

“Stop making excuses!” Sexuality says. He starts to run and trips again, and this time Helga doesn’t catch him. His mask slips, and Roman catches the slightest glimpse of a sparkle before he snaps his fingers and disappears.

Roman turns to Helga.

“What did I do?” he asks. “How do I fix it?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Just don’t screw with him, okay?”

“I would never do that,” Roman says. “I--”

“Whatever,” Helga says. “Just... don’t push it. Don’t try to visit him. It would be bad for both of you, probably.”

“Okay,” says Roman, though his heart hurts at the idea of just letting things be. It’s obvious he messed up somewhere. He just doesn’t know when or how.

He goes back to his room. The light in his ceiling flickers a few times, and he heaves a sigh.

He doesn’t remember taking Pride. He thinks, if he really did something like that, he would probably remember.

Roman heaves a sigh, and rolls over onto his stomach to think. He should just talk to Patton about this. He sighs, and snaps his fingers, teleporting to just outside Patton's room, then knocks on his door.

“I just met Sexuality,” Roman says when Patton answers, and Patton gasps.

“That’s awesome!”

“Yeah,” Roman says harshly, “except-- I don’t know. Can we go to my room?”

“Okay,” Patton says, “Is everything okay?”

Roman sighs, and grabs Patton’s shoulders, transporting them both to his room because he doesn’t feel like walking, and he wants privacy to release the crisis on the edge of his being.

“He’s saying I took Pride... but I don’t remember doing that. I think I would’ve known, Patton. Don’t you? How could I absorb another side on accident? And if I absorbed him, why is he still here? And why would he wait until now to complain?”

Patton is silent for a long moment, chewing his lip.

“Well, Roman... Those sure are some difficult questions.”

Roman waits for what he considers a reasonable amount of time.

“Yes, they are. Can you help me?”

Patton looks at him and Roman sighs.

“I’ll do my best,” he says. “So Sexuality says he used to be Pride.”

“Yes. And it doesn’t make sense! Memory said she’s still Curiosity, and Helga is definitely still ambitious... I don’t understand how I could take over a whole aspect without... destroying it, as bad as that must sound. If I really absorbed Pride, Sexuality shouldn’t be here. And honestly, they should have told me about it right when I did it! If I was really doing something oh so horrible, I would have stopped.”

“Well...” Patton starts jiggling his leg. “We know Sexuality was Pride before.”

“We do?”

“Sure! Memory said so, remember?”

“So I must not’ve actually absorbed Pride! Ha!”

“Well--”

“I should’ve known they were lying, those--”

“Roman--”

“--untrustworthy, good-for-nothing--”

Patton reaches out and flicks Roman’s forehead.

“What?”

“I’m not so sure they were lying, pal,” Patton says, and Roman frowns.

“So you think they’re right? I’m a-- a thief of identity? That I’m greedy for attention?”

“I think... what I think is that--”

“I expected betrayal from them, Patton, but you--”

“This convo isn’t gonna convo-erge into anything useful if you don’t let me talk,” Patton says. “So stop interrupting and listen.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think you would do something if you knew it would hurt anyone,” Patton says, and Roman frowns. “Or, if-- I’m saying you don’t hurt people for your own benefit.”

“Right,” Roman says. “So I wouldn’t--”

“And Deceit is asleep right now,” Patton says. “So it makes sense that if he was involved in it being secret, they would tell you now, since he can’t stop them anymore. And Roman...”

Patton trails off. He won’t look at Roman now. Roman feels apprehension curling up in his stomach like a snake; he doesn’t want to know. He asks anyway.

“What?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Patton says. “You’re... very...”

“What?”

“Proud.”

Roman shivers. He is proud. But-- of course he’s proud! He’s Thomas’s Creativity, his Ego! He has so much to be proud of.

“You’re the most prideful side,” Patton says. “It’s one of your core traits, it’s part of you. Don’t you think?”

Roman makes a face, unwilling to admit it.

“Well... I guess.”

“So if it’s part of you now... and Sexuality used to have it... how did you get it?”

Roman wraps his arms around himself and bites his lip. He feels cold.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I... it feels like I’ve always had it. It’s just... It’s not as much a part of me as my ideas or my boldness, but it’s still there. It’s still _mine_.”

“So maybe you took it,” Patton says, and Roman flinches.

“But I-- Patton,” he says. He chews on his lower lip and tries not to blink because there’s tears welling up in his eyes and he doesn’t want to let them slip out. “Patton, I-- I’m a good person. Right? I wouldn’t do anything like that, I-- I--”

“What do you think it means to be a good person?” Patton asks, and Roman breathes in shakily.

“It means-- you’re _good_ ,” he says. “It means you don’t hurt people, and you don’t lie, and you keep your promises. It means you always try to help people. Like you, Patton, you’re a good person.”

Patton sighs.

“Is Virgil a good person?” he asks, and Roman wipes his eyes discreetly.

“Well... he’s trying,” Roman says generously. “But not really.”

“Why not?”

“Because... because he... I don’t like him! He’s rude, and he makes me feel bad about my work, and-- I’m trying so hard to be nice to him but he still _won’t trust me_. It’s like he doesn’t even care who I am! And he-- he made you cry.”

Patton doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

“Roman,” he says. He sounds just a little bit horrified. “There’s... I don’t even know where to start. There’s just too much wrong with what you just said.”

Roman puffs his chest out and crosses his arms.

“How dare you! I--”

Patton looks over at him, looking more serious than Roman has ever seen him, and Roman runs out of steam immediately.

“How dare I,” Patton repeats. He laughs and shakes his head. “I care about you, Roman. If I see something wrong with what you’re doing, I’m going to tell you that it’s wrong and ask you to stop. That’s my job, because I’m your friend.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman says. “I didn’t mean-- I care about you too. I just-- it’s hard to hear about being wrong. I don’t like it.”

“You still can’t--”

“I know,” Roman says. “I’m sorry, I-- I’ll work on it. I wanted to explain, but I think you already understand. I’m trying.”

“I know,” Patton says. “We were talking about Virgil.”

Roman wrinkles his nose.

“Is there any other reason you don’t think he’s a good person?” Patton asks.

“Why don’t you tell me why you think he’s such a good person,” Roman says contrarily, and then immediately regrets his tone. “I mean--”

“No, it’s no problem,” Patton says. “For one thing, he’s trying. Just like you. No matter what’s happening, he’s always trying to help. Even before, when he was just making things worse. That was because he didn’t know how to help Thomas. And now that he’s learned the right thing to do, he’s doing his best to do it.”

“But he--”

“The way you feel about him does not determine whether he’s a good person or not,” Patton says firmly. “It just determines how you treat him. You’re frustrated that he isn’t perfect yet. I’m ecstatic that he’s gotten better. He’s come so, so far, Roman. I wish you’d make some progress with him.”

“I have made progress,” Roman insists, unable to withstand the weight of Patton’s disappointment. “Remember? I made that truce.”

“Yes, you did,” Patton says. “But you toe the line of breaking it every time Virgil does something you don’t like. Even if it’s just a mistake! Roman, you can’t-- I’m not saying you have to ignore it when he hurts you, but you have to deal with it differently. You can’t accuse him of not even trying to change, and you can’t call him a bad person for messing up. It’s not fair.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Roman asks, and-- he says it snootily, but he really does want to know the answer.

“Well, you could do several different things,” Patton says. “You could ignore it.”

Roman makes a face.

“No way.”

“You could point it out and give him a chance to apologise.”

That’s a little better.

“Okay,” Roman allows. “What else?”

“If he gets really bad, you can come find me or Logan. It’s okay to ask for help, Roman. Both of us care about the two of you.”

Roman bites his lip and looks down at his hands.

“Okay,” he says. “I-- thank you. I’ll... try. Do you really think that’ll work?”

“Yes,” Patton says. “Eventually, I think it will. You’ll just have to practice.”

“Okay. Patton?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think makes a good person good?”

Patton flops back onto the bed, staring up at Roman’s light.

“I think a good person can be anyone,” he says. “I think anyone can start being a good person whenever they want. You just have to... you have to respect other people, first of all. Even if you don’t feel like they deserve it, you have to do it. If you hurt someone, you have to apologise, and you have to make sure you won’t do it again. And if someone hurts you, you have to control yourself. Take care of yourself before you try to hurt them back. Because if they’re really a bad person, they don’t care about you. So you have to prioritise your feelings and not theirs. That means you make yourself feel better by actually doing the work, not just putting them down. And even a good person can hurt somebody. And if you find out you’ve hurt someone... and you hurt them badly... you do whatever you can to make it right.”

“Oh,” Roman says.

“You aren’t a bad person,” Patton says. “I think you hurt Sexuality and I think you absorbed Pride. But I don’t think it makes you a bad person unless you don’t do anything about it.”

“Sexuality thinks I’m a bad person,” Roman says.

“That doesn’t mean you are,” says Patton. “It just means he’s going to treat you like one.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Roman says. “I just have no idea how to fix this. So I took Pride. It’s not like I can just give it back, right?”

“I don’t know,” Patton says. “If you don’t remember taking it... Well, I just don’t know.”

* * *

A conversation intended to check in on Patton and see how he’s handling the feelings turns into a party game, and Roman is living for it! It’s the perfect distraction from his current worries.

He begins. Hm. Who to target...

“Never have I ever thrown something at a friend,” he declares, and for a brief moment, he thinks Logan is going to try and claim that they aren’t friends, so it doesn’t count.

But Logan drinks his syrup, and Roman is very pleased, as well as pleasantly surprised.

“Now it’s my turn,” Patton says. “Hm. Never have I ever kissed someone on the lips. Besides Sleep. That doesn’t count.”

Roman scoffs.

“I don’t think any of us have done that,” he begins to say, and then Virgil fills his shot glass with syrup and throws it back.

“Woah,” Roman says. This does not bode well for Lirgil, unless Logan is just stalling in admitting it. “You’ve kissed someone?”

“Who did you kiss,” Logan asks. Oh dear. Perhaps the ship won’t sail after all.

“Apathy,” Virgil says, and Roman’s eyebrows shoot up and then furrow.

What the fuck. Apathy... If Virgil and Apathy are an item, why would Virgil help Roman vanquish him?

“He--” Virgil shakes his head. “Sleep dared him to make out with me, so he did it. Since I’m pretty sure there’s not a single dark or deep side that hasn’t crushed on Sleep at some point.”

And... honestly, Roman can sympathise with that. It would suck to have your first kiss just happen on a dare. It’s almost as bad as losing it to Deceit’s boyfriend.

“How would Apathy have a crush,” Logan says. “That’s like me having a crush.”

Roman and Patton exchange a glance. This man... this man is so clueless it’s not even that funny anymore, it’s just frustrating. Getting these two together is going to be so much work. The things Roman does for his friends. For his friend and Virgil, that is.

“I never said he admitted to having a crush. But he definitely had a crush, and didn’t realise it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan says. “You can’t have a crush and not realise it.”

It’s all Roman can do not to burst out laughing at that. It’s like Logan isn’t listening to a single word that comes out of his own mouth.

“Whatever you say,” Virgil drawls, rolling his eyes. “Anyway. Never have I ever won a game of solitaire.”

“Curse you!” Roman says, filling his and Logan’s glass with syrup. “I will have my revenge!”

“Don’t take it personal, Princey. I was aiming for Logan,” Virgil says. Roman almost chokes on his syrup, and narrows his eyes.

“You mean _personally_ , Virgil, and I thought we were allies,” says Logan. He sighs with more drama than he’s ever previously shown the ability to muster, and says, “Well. At least now I don’t have to attempt to think of something that exclusively targets the other two. Never have I ever worn makeup.”

Roman pours more syrup into his shot glass, talking a mile a minute because Logan and Virgil usually stop paying attention to him after a few sentences of him monologuing.

“Okay,” he whispers to Patton, “that gives me an idea, we have to get Logan to wear makeup. Bonus points if we can get Virgil to apply it.”

Patton clasps his hands together in excitement and giggles evilly.

“I love it,” he says. “It’s your turn, by the way.”

“Never have I ever lost a game of solitaire,” Roman says more loudly, just because he’s annoyed with Virgil right now. Virgil doesn’t look away from Logan when he flips Roman off, and Roman rolls his eyes. Whipped. Those two are so whipped for each other it’s ridiculous.

“Never have I ever said infinitesimal when I meant to say multitudinous,” Patton declares. That’s a really good one. Patton is so smart, Roman thinks. But not in an annoying way! He’s a genius, but he doesn’t brag about it like Logan likes to. Roman manifests a wet wipe to get the stickiness off his fingers as he admires the excited grin on Patton’s face. Patton is probably as close to perfect as it gets, he decides.

“Me neither,” Logan says. Liar. “I don’t even think infinitesimal is a word-- I mean multitudinous.”

“You just did it!” Roman shouts, and Logan crosses his arms.

“But I _hadn’t_ at the time Patton said it. So it doesn’t count.”

“I think it counts,” Virgil says. Ha! Backup! Maybe Virgil isn’t so bad after all.

“Actually, the United States Constitution prohibits ex post facto and this is basically the same concept in reverse--”

“This is a party game, not a court of law,” Virgil quips, just before Roman can. Roman’s jaw drops.

“And anyway, I’m team captain and I say it counts,” says Patton, filling Logan’s glass with syrup. “Drink up!”

Logan wrinkles his nose, but drinks the syrup, and Virgil says,

“Never have I ever, uh... denied the very possibility that I could have feelings.”

Logan sighs, and refills his shot glass. Patton nudges Roman.

“You know you and Virgil have a lot more in common than you think,” he murmurs, and Roman makes a face.

“Maybe,” he allows. He’ll... consider it.

“Never have I ever worn a hoodie,” Logan says thickly, voice strange from all the syrup he’s had to drink. He makes Patton drink too, but Roman hasn’t worn a hoodie, so he doesn’t have to worry.

And this gives him the perfect opportunity to execute his plot.

“You must have worn a hoodie,” he says, sly on the inside, indignant on the outside. Acting: the eighth wonder of the world. “Not even once?”

“Not even once,” Logan says.

“This is a travesty,” Roman declares, trying not to let his satisfaction show on his face. “No makeup, no hoodie!? We are giving you a makeover. Right now!”

“No,” Logan says. “That’s not happening. No way.”

“I bet he’d look cute in black lipstick,” Virgil says. Roman scoffs, and changes his mind about Virgil’s potential redeemability.

“Ew! We are _not_ giving him _emo_ makeup. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Hey, you could both give him a makeover and the one he likes best wins! A friendly competition,” Patton suggests, proving yet again that he’s smarter than Logan.

Perfect. Roman can make Logan look gorgeous so Virgil can’t help but fall for him even harder, and Virgil can get real close to Logan-- maybe he can give them a little shove so they accidentally kiss.

No, that’d probably do more harm than good; accidental kisses always end up causing angst. It’d probably be especially bad for these two emotional bottlenecks.

“Roman can go first,” Virgil says. So maybe he’s not too bad. Roman honestly isn’t sure at this point, okay? It’s all very complicated.

Logan tries to protest, but then gives in, evidently seeing that this is all just for his own good.

“Awesome!” Roman says. “What’s your favourite colour?”

He knows Logan’s favourite colour, so he’s just asking as a formality. Logan always has the same responses to these sorts of questions, so Roman knows he’ll say _indigo like iodine on starch_ , but Patton says Logan likes getting opportunities to say his little scripted answers, so Roman tries to let him.

“Purple,” Logan supplies. What. “Like in my tie. Or the asexual pride flag.”

“Surprising choice,” Roman says. He makes eye contact with Patton and smirks. Patton beams back at him. Logan’s favourite colour has always been dark blue, between blue and purple-- it’s what he’s always told Roman and Patton ever since Thomas was young, since before the three of them had met Virgil, since before Thomas got interested in chemistry and learned about indicators like iodine. And even though Logan considers most purples to fall within his favourite colour as well, he always describes it as blue or indigo. Until now.

“How so?”

“I think we were all expecting dark blue,” Virgil says. His face is flushing. “Purple is... kinda my colour.”

“You can’t own a colour, that’s preposterous,” Logan says.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Virgil says. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

Roman goes first. He works very hard. It’s much, much easier to put makeup on someone who isn’t Patton. His hand still shakes when he applies Logan’s eyeliner, but it takes him far fewer tries, so he’s satisfied.

“Finished,” he says, pulling back and looking over at Patton to see what he thinks as he holds up a mirror for Logan. Patton nods at him, tilting his head towards Virgil.

Virgil is staring at Logan with his mouth hanging open. Roman smiles, looking back at Logan. “What do you think?”

“It’s adequate,” Logan says. Roman rolls his eyes. Coming from Logan, that is high praise indeed. “Okay, Virgil’s turn now.” Logan wipes off the makeup so abruptly and with such obvious relief that Roman almost feels offended. “I feel should warn you I’m not a fan of the-- that is to say-- I don’t want the same kind of style you prefer.”

“No worries,” Virgil says. It’s kind of cute how intently he’s watching Logan. “I’ll keep it simple.”

“Oh,” Logan says. Patton nudges Roman, and the two of them exchange another secret, smug glance.

“So if Virgil pauses in the middle of putting lipstick on Logan, is that an _ellipses_?”

Roman giggles.

“No, it’s just because he’s _lipped_.”

Patton snorts.

“Okay,” Virgil says. “Done.”

“Oh,” Logan says as he looks in the mirror.

“So who did better?” Roman asks eagerly, even though he already knows the answer. It was him, of course. 

“Virgil,” Logan says, as though his job is to answer questions with overt bullshit and ruin Roman’s day. Except it isn’t, because that’s Virgil’s job.

Roman huffs, indignant. This development may be very good for the plan, but it is _not_ good for his ego.

“Virgil hardly did anything,” he protests. “You’re only saying that because you have a--”

“Shut up,” Virgil says.

“I didn’t like the way your makeup felt on my face,” Logan says. “This is less obtrusive. Simpler. I prefer it.”

“Logan just isn’t the flamboyant type,” Virgil says, and Roman crosses his arms.

“I liked yours,” Patton says, and Roman sighs. Well, if Patton liked it, that’s basically the same as winning. 

“Thanks,” he says. “I guess that’s good enough. But I worked _so hard_ \--”

Patton elbows him and tips his head towards Logan, who is staring at Virgil’s lips with a very strange look on his face. He pushes his glasses up in the way he always does right before he does something impulsive, and Virgil’s eyes widen minutely.

“Well! Bedtime for me,” Roman says, grabbing Patton’s hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Ope, me too,” Patton says, like he’s a midwesterner and not a floridian. Roman snorts.

“It’s five PM,” Logan calls after them, but they’re already heading up the stairs, grinning at each other like idiots as they go.

“That was amazing!” Roman exclaims in a whisper, letting go of Patton’s hand to brush his hair out of his face. He notices Patton watching and does it again, just barely subtle enough to not look ridiculous, and he’s gratified when Patton stops walking and grabs his hand again.

“Hey,” Patton says, and Roman turns the rest of the way towards him. “This was awesome.”

Roman smiles, heart beating like a happy bird.

“Yeah,” he says. Patton steps in closer, and Roman’s smile grows. But-- not yet. Not now. Patton intends to kiss him, Roman can tell from how he keeps glancing at his lips, but... He’d prefer to do it on his own terms, with a lovely, flowery confession beforehand and maybe even candlelight. “It sure was.”

He raises a hand to mess with his hair again, elbow out at a slightly different angle from before so that Patton can’t quite get close enough to go for a kiss. Patton watches him again, and he just looks more determined now, studying Roman’s face like it’s a priceless masterpiece-- which it is, of course-- and Roman wants to stay and let it happen. He wants to bask in the attention and kiss Patton and confess later.

But not now. He can’t yet. Later. Soon.

“Goodnight,” he says to Patton. Patton takes one half-step forwards and Roman goes for a hug, pulling Patton close and-- wow, he’s warm. Maybe Roman _will_ kiss him after this hug.

“Goodnight,” Patton says. He pulls back and absconds into his room, and Roman is left standing in the hallway, wondering if he should’ve just let it happen the way _Patton_ wanted, if maybe it would’ve been nice.

* * *

It’s a few days before christmas. Roman is sitting on the back of the couch, because Virgil said something about the definition of a chair a while ago that he wants to test out. Maybe it’ll spark his creativity.

Virgil and Helga are playing video games on the couch, and Memory and Pain are doing something at the kitchen counter that involves a whole lot of yarn. The hall closet door opens. Hm, strange. Logan comes out and shuts the door behind him. There’s definitely something different about him, other than the fact that he apparently teleported into the closet instead of walking down the stairs. Hm... Oh.

“Nice eyeliner, Logan,” Roman says. He hadn’t anticipated that Logan would wear it on his own, and he almost expects Logan to explain that it was a dare from Virgil, or something, but Logan just pushes his glasses up and smiles shyly.

“I applied it correctly? That’s a relief. Thank you, Roman.”

Roman cocks his head.

“How’d you learn to put on eyeliner, anyway?” he asks, and Logan smirks like he’s been waiting for someone to ask him.

“Gale taught me how,” he says, smugger than Memory when they have gossip to share. Pain and Memory are both openly eavesdropping now, and Roman can’t tell, but he thinks Helga might be paying attention too, because she drives right off the road in Mario Kart. Virgil pauses the game and turns to watch over the couch.

“Who is Gale?” Roman asks.

“You know,” Logan says. “He’s really good at makeup, and he’s the prettiest one here besides Virgil--” Virgil covers his face and hides in the couch cushions, and Logan’s smirk grows even larger and smugger--

“Are you talking about Fun?” Memory asks. “I wouldn’t describe him as _good_ at makeup, but he sure does like it--”

“No,” Logan says, and he has the gall to act confused by Memory’s guess. “I’m talking about Gale. You know, Sexuality. He--”

“You’ve seen his face?” Memory says, standing and slamming their hands down on the kitchen counter.

“Yes, he’s quite stunning,” Logan says. “I would even describe him as radiant.”

“No way,” Helga says. “He showed you?”

“Surely someone’s seen his face besides Logan,” Roman says. It can’t be this big of a deal.

“Nope,” says Pain. “He never takes off that mask. He definitely changed when he sank like the rest of us, but nobody knows how.”

“He chose a name?” Virgil asks, coming out of the cushions. “He-- he--”

“Yeah,” says someone, and their voice is muffled. Roman takes a moment to figure out where it’s coming from. “I’m Gale.”

The closet. Oh, ha ha.

“Are you gonna come out?” Logan asks, and there’s a moment of silence.

“Yeah, whatever,” says Gale. The closet door opens, and Roman squints; it’s still sort of dim in there. Is he... transparent?

“Woah,” says Pain. “WOAH DUDE HOLY SHIT MAN, YOU’RE LIKE FUCKING CHERNOBYL!”

“I don’t see the resemblance,” says Memory, tilting their head to the side and squinting.

Gale snaps his fingers, manifesting a grey cane, which he swings from side to side at ground level before stepping out. He’s just wearing the skirt and crop top now, and he has a new mask that only covers the area around his eyes and doesn’t really hide anything.

“Are you blind?” Roman asks. That would explain why Gale wouldn’t shake his hand when they first met; he didn’t even know Roman wanted to shake hands.

“Shiny!” Patton exclaims. “Woah, you’re so shiny! That is just amazing! I love everything about you!”

Roman makes a face. He really doesn’t see the big deal.

“Yes,” Gale says. “I am blind. Logan?”

Logan takes a flashlight out of his pocket and switches it on, then points it at Gale, and Roman’s jaw drops.

“That’s amazing,” Memory says. “You’re so gay, I love it. Why did you think you had to hide this?”

“Gale,” Helga says. There are tears in her eyes. “Gale. That feels right. I told you you didn’t have to hide, you’re so pretty. Not as pretty as Mossy, but--”

“I don’t care about this!” Roman announces, and he’s about to go off and tell everyone exactly why it doesn’t matter and how they should be paying attention to him instead, but Virgil cuts him off.

“Apathy,” he says, and Apathy solidifies on top of the kitchen cabinets. Gale takes a step back towards the closet.

“Pretty, or whatever,” Apathy grumbles.

“Hey!” says Roman. “Apologise, Apathy! I’m sorry, Gale, I promise I did not mean that. You look positively dazzling!”

Apathy leaps nimbly down from his perch atop the cabinets, somehow landing on his feet even though he dove forwards, and darts over to Gale, leaning in until their faces are less than five inches apart. He tilts his head to the side, studying Gale closely.

“Sparkly,” Apathy mumbles. He reaches out and pokes Gale’s forehead, and Gale moves faster than Roman blinks to grab his wrist. “Warm.”

“Step back,” Gale says. “I don’t want anything to do with--”

“I don’t want anything to do with you either,” Apathy sneers. “Too rainbow. Fuckin’ pretty boy.”

“That’s a compliment,” Gale says.

“Pretty boy with your pretty eyelashes and pretty lips and pretty stupid face--”

“Go away, Apathy,” Roman says, and Apathy turns to glare at him before turning back to Gale.

“I’m not gay,” he says.

“Aren’t you?” Gale says. Apathy shakes his head.

“He shook his head,” Helga says, and Gale doesn’t say anything for long enough that it gets awkward.

“I just rolled my eyes,” he says.

“I’m not,” Apathy insists. “Maybe you all are, and maybe Thomas is, but I’m not. And I still think it’s gross. Just so everyone knows. You should all be ashamed, or whatever. I don’t care if you’re not ashamed, as long as you know you should be.”

“So that’s where Shame went,” Memory says, rolling their eyes. “Apathy, you’re gay. You like men. Deal with it.”

“No, I--”

“Should I go get Ennui-- oh, oops, I mean Sleep? We can see what he thinks about your sexuality,” Virgil says casually, and Apathy flinches like it’s a coherent threat.

“Apathy,” Roman says. Apathy turns to him, hands trembling. He clenches them into fists to steady them.

“What,” he says. “What are you gonna say, Ideas? You can’t--”

“Imagine liking a man and not feeling bad about it,” Roman says, and Apathy opens his mouth, then hesitates. He turns slowly back towards Gale, glances for just a moment at Virgil, and then turns back to Roman. “What would that be like?” Roman asks softly.

“Different,” Apathy says. He crosses his arms. “Impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” Roman says. “Work on it. Imagine being wrong.”

Apathy tilts his head, and Roman can feel his scrutiny from across the room.

“Maybe I will,” he says. He sinks out.

“Well!” Pain says, vaulting over the counter and walking loudly over to Gale. “High five?”

“Hello to you too, Paige,” Gale says. “I’ll hold my hand up, and you can high five me.”

He holds his hand up, and Pain pouts, but high fives him.

“You look good, man,” he says, grinning. His teeth show.

“You presumably look like you did before I went blind,” Gale replies, but his voice is uncertain.

“Actually, I’m much more attractive now,” Pain says. “I know, we all thought it was impossible, but when have I not defied expectation?”

“Whatever,” Gale says, but he’s laughing. “Is Fun around? I haven’t heard his voice. And where are Sleep and Dee?”

“Deceit is unconscious,” Logan says. “He passed out a few weeks ago after taking control of Thomas’s body to keep him and William in the closet during thanksgiving.”

“Holy fuck,” Pain says. “Is that what happened? God, what a legend. I bet you’re glad you’re down with us instead of him, huh, Helga?”

“Fuck off,” Helga says, rolling her eyes, and Pain cackles. His mouth expands as he laughs, and Roman shudders, a little grossed out.

“Oh,” Gale says. “So since Dee is gone... that’s probably why I can’t stay hidden. So what happens when he gets back?”

Roman bites his lip.

“Gale,” he says. He doesn’t miss how Gale’s expression hardens a little bit. “Is it my fault that you’re blind?”

“Is it any of your business?” Gale snarks, leaning on his cane. He’s facing the TV.

“I was just curious,” Roman says. “Does anyone know... or have any ideas about how I could... give Pride back?”

Gale loses his balance and crashes to the ground. He gets back up on his own, and no one moves to help him.

“It’s probably not possible,” Virgil says pessimistically, and Logan sighs.

“You don’t know that,” he says. “If you need more energy, you can just say.”

Virgil crosses his arms and mocks Logan very quietly.

“Literally do whatever you have to,” Gale says. “Just give it back.”

 _You don’t need to be proud_ , Roman thinks to himself. _Who cares whether you share Thomas’s ego? It wouldn’t make any difference to let Gale take some of Pride back._

Logan starts to say something, and Roman shushes him.

“Just a moment,” he says. “Apathy is messing with me.”

 _I’m listening,_ Roman thinks. _How can you help me?_

 _You’ll need to cleave,_ Apathy responds. _You can’t do that without dissociating. You may not be able to at all. It would depend on how well you’ve assimilated Pride._

_Why are you helping with this?_

_Pride smiled at me, before,_ Apathy tells him. _He wants something that I can get for him. And I’m bored._

Roman frowns. That does _not_ sound like Apathy, but this is his only lead.

 _How can I do that, then?_ he asks.

 _Close your eyes,_ Apathy says.

Roman shuts his eyes, and feels himself fall backwards.

* * *

The rush of uncaring is mildly uncomfortable, but Roman knows he could leap out of it at any moment, so he doesn’t mind too much. He’s in his room, staring up at the light in his ceiling.

 _There_ , Apathy says. _That’s Pride_.

“But if I take it out, my room will be dark,” Roman says to himself. He shakes his head. This was a silly idea; nice on the surface, but too impractical to actually use.

_Who cares if your room is dark._

“I care,” Roman says, and-- oh. Oh, that’s scary.

_No, you don’t. Don’t care. Stop caring. You can work in the dark. You can manifest a flashlight. You can light up your room some other way._

Roman feels dizzy and almost falls over as everything rushes out of him, replaced by a soul-deep emptiness that he feels to his core.

“What did you do,” he asks, mildly curious, but detached from any real desire to know the answer.

“I cut out a piece of you,” Apathy says, appearing in front of him. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll put it back later. What are you going to do now?”

Roman looks down at himself (his body is whole), then up at his light.

“Well, I don’t know. I have no idea, really.”

 _Give Pride back,_ says a voice in Roman’s head that sounds just like him. There’s an idea.

“You could--”

“I think I’ll change my lightbulb,” Roman says. He drags his desk into the middle of the room and stands up on it, then almost falls. “Woah. I’m very dizzy.”

He touches the frosted glass orb that protrudes from his ceiling, and tugs down gently. It comes away in his hands.

“Good,” Apathy says. “It’s not too integrated into your identity, then.”

Roman brings the orb down below eye level, and looks down into its open top. There’s a little ball of light, floating in the exact center. He squints back up at his ceiling. He’s exposed some wiring. Strange.

 _Just put christmas lights all over,_ says that voice again, and the wires on the ceiling begin to glow dimly.

Oh yeah. Roman already knew this. It’s just been so long he forgot how his light used to work.

It used to only glow when he had an idea. But then he started finding light-- Pride-- and stuck the pieces into the glass when he found them, because he was tired of having to manifest lights whenever he didn’t have any really bright ideas.

Well, he doesn’t really see any difference if he keeps it or doesn’t keep it. So he dumps it out of the orb and into his hand, and then puts the glass back. His room dims until it’s dark.

“Thank you, Roman,” Apathy says. “I’ll put you back together as soon as you return that. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says. Apathy snaps, and Roman is overcome with dizziness before the room blinks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> comment and i'll probably screw over my finals to post next week instead of the week after


	5. You Make Me Smile (Please Stay For A While)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts with a flashback :) also you get to meet fun!!
> 
> wow, it's been a while. title is from "bubbly" by colbie caillat
> 
> writing this chapter has unfortunately made me adore roman, my former least fave character. im not even sure i have a least fave now.
> 
> there is one more chapter. hopefully itll make the main themes clear? i dont know. this novel is sort of a mess but i love it anyway. the one thing id change: shorter chapters, and more of them.
> 
> warning for homophobia in this chapter, oof

_“Dad,” Will says, reaching down and grabbing Thomas’s hand. Thomas squeezes it, but doesn’t say anything; this is Will’s moment. “Dad, I have something to tell you.”_

_Mr. Roberts looks down at their hands and then back at Will, raising an eyebrow._

_“Son...”_

_“Dad. You love me, right?” Will says almost desperately, and Mr. Roberts crosses his arms over his chest. The atmosphere is awkward._

_“Yes,” Mr. Roberts says. “Will, you know that.”_

_“Okay,” Will says. “But Dad, I’m gay.”_

_Silence. Mr. Roberts’s grip on his elbows is so tight his fingernails have turned white._

_“And I’m dating Thomas,” Will adds. “So if you-- if that changes anything...”_

_Mr. Roberts remains silent, just watching the two of them._

_“Please say something,” Will says._

_Mr. Roberts leaves the room, walking through the kitchen and over to the garage door. Will starts after him, letting go of Thomas’s hand._

_“Don’t follow me,” Mr. Roberts says. His voice is tight, and he makes eye contact with Thomas for just long enough that Thomas can see the angry glint in his eye. It sends a shiver down his spine._

_“Dad--”_

_“Will,” Thomas says, and Will looks back at him, eyes wild with worry. He looks like he might cry._

_Thomas looks at Mr. Roberts again, and Mr. Roberts’s hateful expression softens just a little bit as he looks between Thomas and Will. Thomas wants to cuss him out. He wants to shout, wants to hold him accountable for all the worry he’s poured into Will, all the tears he’s made him cry, but-- this isn’t about Thomas. It’s not about what Thomas wants, or what would make him feel better. He’s only here to support Will, so he knows he’s not alone._

_“Fuck,” Mr. Roberts says. “Shit, William. I thought I taught you better than-- later. This will wait until later.”_

_He steps out into the garage and slams the door. They hear the sound of the garage door and an old, noisy car starting up, and then Mr. Roberts drives away._

_“Well,” Will says, voice shaky. “That went better than I thought it would.”_

_“Are you okay?” Thomas asks in unison with Will’s mom._

_“He didn’t kick me out,” Will says, voice full of wonder._

_“It’s not his house anymore,” Mrs. Roberts reminds him, and Will laughs, stumbling over to her for a hug._

_“I’m surprised he didn’t yell more,” says Thomas. “Not that I know your dad, but I thought most homophobes yelled.”_

_“Richard doesn’t like to yell,” says Mrs. Roberts. “He’s always been that way. He disappears when he’s angry enough to yell.”_

_“Yeah,” says Will. “Unless he-- once I played a prank on Joey that could’ve really hurt him, and when Dad found out about it he yelled at me, he was really angry. It was scary. But Mom stepped in and made him take a break, and then they talked to me together and made sure I wouldn’t do anything like that again.”_

_Will’s phone buzzes._

_\-- William, you’ve always been a good kid._

_“Let’s sit down,” Thomas says, and Will nods, following Thomas to the couch. They sit side by side, legs touching._

_\-- Please don’t text and drive-- Will sends back._

_\-- See? That’s exactly what I mean. Don’t worry, I am in a parking lot. William, I don’t understand why would you do this. You know how I feel about it. I thought you understood. You never acted like it was a problem. If you disagreed you should have talked to me, I would have told you exactly why it wasn’t okay. Haven’t I always done that for you? I try not to be unapproachable._

_“Oh god,” Will says. His hands shake as he types a response, leaning into Thomas’s side and holding the phone so he can see the conversation._

_\-- Thomas makes me happy. Dad, I love him. Why don’t you ask me exactly why it’s okay?_

_\-- Sure, okay. Tell me why you think this depravity is perfectly acceptable._   
_\-- I already know that hurt your feelings. I’m sorry. I might not be ready to talk about this, but I don’t want to let too much time pass before resolving it, one way or another._

_\-- Thomas has helped me understand myself. He’s helped me grow the same way a girlfriend should. I don’t see why you can’t understand this. He’s the reason I’m telling you._

_\-- I don’t understand. Are you saying this is Thomas’s fault?_

_\-- I was gay before I met Thomas. Dad, I was so scared. I knew you wouldn’t like it if you found out, so I kept it a secret. But now I don’t need to rely on you for food and shelter, and Thomas helped me realise that I really want you to understand what’s truly happening in my life._   
_\-- I don’t want to be lying to you every time I see you. I want to be able to talk to you without watching my words to make sure I don’t out myself by mistake. Ever since I started realising I was gay there’s been a huge divide between us and I want to start healing it._

_\-- Okay. I noticed the distance too. I appreciate knowing you don’t want to lie to me. You say Thomas helped you, what do you mean by that?_

_\-- Thomas appreciates me for who I am. He’s always been there for me. He supports me. Dad, I just really love him._

_\-- I don’t understand. I can’t understand._

_\-- Dad, I’m still the same person. Just... think about it. I know you think all gay people should die but I also know you want to do the right thing_   
_\-- Please. You said you liked the way I grew up._

_\-- I did say that._   
_\-- William... I’m going to need to think a lot about all of this._   
_\-- I need to stop talking to you now. Do not text again._   
_\-- Remember that you are my son._

_Will sobs, and presses the power button on his phone, then turns and leans into Thomas’s arms._

_“It’s okay,” Thomas whispers. “Let it out. I’m here for you.”_

_Thomas is not the hero right now. He’s not a dashing prince, racing to Will’s rescue, but he isn’t a proud parent, either. He’s... a partner, standing by in case Will needs encouragement, and this is where it starts. The day after thanksgiving, Roman begins to realise something._

* * *

Roman returns to chaos, but everyone quiets down when they notice he’s back. He staggers and falls into Patton, who catches him.

“Fear not, my friends and acquaintances and Virgil, for I have returned,” he says, breathless, and Patton narrows his eyes.

“Something’s wrong,” Patton says. “What happened, Roman? You are Roman, right?”

“Oh my god,” says Virgil, not even acknowledging Roman’s slight as he peers over the back of the couch. “Thank god. Are you okay? Did Apathy--”

“Settle down, everyone,” Logan says. His face is blurry, but his voice sounds almost concerned. “Tell us what happened, Roman.”

“Where’s Gale?” Roman says. He squints. _Something is wrong_ , ~~Roman thinks~~ Memory says. “Jeez, why can’t I see well all of a sudden? Where is he?”

“I’m here,” Gale says apprehensively. Roman stumbles towards him and almost falls; his legs seem unwilling to hold him.

“What’s going on,” Helga says, voice shaking. “C’mon, don’t fade. Not like this, I’m supposed to vanquish you epically and then--”

“Oh,” Memory says, eyes widening in shock. “He’s been hacked into pieces.”

Patton gasps, raising a hand to his mouth.

“His body is fully intact,” Logan says. “I don’t understand.”

“His personality is in three separate parts,” Memory explains. “Pride, Creativity, Ambition, and... Boldness, or Audacity. Whatever Courage turned into when he got absorbed way back when. Only Courage and a few shreds of Ambition are in his body right now.”

“What the fuck,” Virgil says. “He uses Creativity to keep Apathy down, doesn’t he? So does that mean he--”

Roman finally makes it to Gale and leans heavily on the wall, blinking rapidly.

“Don’t freak out,” he says, and Gale takes a step back in alarm. Roman doesn’t have time for this. His vision has gone strange, but he can see well enough to grasp Gale’s shoulder, lift the crop top, and press Pride into his chest. Gale shudders, and Roman feels a cold hand slap his back.

“Oh,” he says, turning and blinking the blurriness out of his eyes. There’s suddenly an ache in his spine where there wasn’t one before. Apathy stands behind him, cowering, trying to make himself look small.

“I gave it back,” Apathy says. “Just like I told you I would. Ask Memory. I promise.”

“He did,” Memory says. They’re scowling at the countertop. “Sort of. You don’t have Pride anymore.”

Apathy peeks around Roman, and his jaw drops, so Roman turns.

Gale is glowing, lit from within, casting rainbows all throughout the room.

“Oh,” Gale says. He sinks to his knees. The rainbows dance. “I feel... real.”

He smiles.

“It won’t bring your sight back,” Apathy says. “It was missing for too long. The damage is probably permanent. But you’ll have better balance now. Ideas might need glasses.”

“I don’t need to see,” Gale says. “This is-- wow. Thank you.”

“I still think you’re a pansy,” Apathy says. “And I’m still not gay. This doesn’t change anything.”

“Don’t worry,” Gale says sardonically. “I’m blind. Even if you _were_ hot, I’d be able to ignore it better than most.”

“So,” Patton says, grabbing Roman from behind and hugging him. Roman almost falls. His chest feels tight like he just ran a mile. “I heard you might need glasses, like a huge nerd.”

Roman scowls, and turns to face him. He feels tired, and more irritable than he’d like to be.

“No,” he says. “I’m not-- I refuse.”

“I’m proud of you,” Patton says, suddenly solemn. “You did the right thing here.”

Roman flushes. He can’t get mad at that.

“Apathy made me do it,” he mutters. “It wasn’t really that--”

“You still did it,” Patton says. “Good job.”

“Oh my god,” Gale says. He shoves past Roman and Patton and glomps Apathy, who struggles, but can’t quite get out of his grip. He looks appalled. Roman snorts. “I have a heartbeat! You guys!”

He lets Apathy go, and Apathy slinks off, face bright red.

“Paige!”

Pain rolls his eyes, but says,

“I’m over here, come get me.”

Gale backtracks and hugs Pain next.

“Check it out,” he says, putting Pain’s hand on his chest. “Check it out! This is so fucking cool! It feels so weird!”

“Aren’t you proud of yourself?” Patton asks quietly, and Roman shrugs. He feels... smaller. He feels purposeless.

“Roman!” Gale shouts, and Roman flinches, wondering what he did now. “It’s your turn, you shithead. Where are you?”

“Uh... here?”

Gale narrows his eyes and launches himself towards Roman, who breathes in sharply because it looks like he’s going to crash into the couch. Gale hears, and corrects his trajectory at the last moment, bowling Roman over in his enthusiasm.

“You’re a jerk and a fuckface, but you’re my friend now, so I’ll forgive you.”

“Thanks?” Roman says.

“Someday,” Gale adds, and Roman takes a moment to process that. Someday, as in, he hasn’t been forgiven yet. Well, that... it hurts, but it seems fair. Roman wouldn’t forgive himself either. Ever. Oh gosh.

“You’re putting yourself down,” Patton whispers. And-- of course Roman is putting himself down. He’s the villain in someone else’s story, and it feels _horrible_.

“Virgil!” Gale says next, and Virgil tries to run.

Roman shrugs and looks away from Patton.

“It’s not a big deal,” he tries to say.

Gale snaps, and Virgil is teleported right beside him. He flinches back as Gale reaches out and-- holds his hand out for a high five. “You’re a piece of shit who let your worries get in the way of our relationship, even though we probably would’ve broken up anyway! I still missed you, though, so you better actually visit this time or I’ll teach Logan some Things.”

“What things,” Virgil asks.

“I believe you’ll fix things,” Patton says, and Roman makes a face. It hurts, to be believed in when he doesn’t believe in himself. It especially hurts that Patton is the one who believes in him.

“You don’t know that,” Roman mutters, and Patton frowns in concern.

“High five me!” Gale is saying.

Virgil high fives him.

“Tell me what things.”

“Things you don’t want him knowing!” Gale says.

“Whatever,” Virgil says. “I missed you too, I would’ve visited after this anyway.”

“I know, but this way you know for sure I want you to! Where’s Amber?”

There’s an awkward moment of silence.

“Oh jeez, wait, I meant-- I’m sorry,” Gale says. The light inside him dims for a moment. “I forgot-- it feels like everything’s back how it was, but-- aw, man, Helga, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Helga says shakily. There’s a stray rainbow trembling at the corner of her eye. Gale shifts his weight and it slides down her cheek like a tear. “It was a good name.”

“It was,” Gale agrees.

“It just... isn’t right anymore. Where’s my hug?”

Gale hugs her, but they’re both more subdued when he pulls back.

“Are you about to call me Kitty?” Memory asks, and Gale furrows his brow and then sighs.

“Oh. Memory. No,” he says. “I value my life, thanks.”

“Catherine?”

“No.”

“Kate?”

“No--”

“Cat?”

“You never went by Cat,” Logan says.

“Hey guys what’s popping--” A side Roman hasn’t seen before pops up from the floor and then tips their head, staring at Gale in confusion.

“Hey, Fun,” says Helga, rolling her eyes. “You missed the whole party.”

“I’ve told you, Helga, stick in the muck,” says Fun, flicking their head so the star-shaped cheap plastic sunglasses perched on their forehead slip down to cover their eyes. “Go ahead and call me Fuck.”

“You are _not_ naming yourself Fuck,” Helga says.

“Fun?” Patton says, and Roman notices that he’s bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Adorable.

“That’s me,” Fun says, sticking their hip out and tossing the end of a pastel purple feather boa over their shoulder. “I’m Fuck! He/him pronouns or crash a truck!”

He snaps his suspenders and winks at Patton, grinning widely. He has braces, and he’s wearing an emerald green beret, an orange button down shirt, silver suspenders, and beige short shorts along with the aforementioned lavender feather boa. Oh, and he’s covered head to toe in body paint the same shade of emerald as his beret.

“Stressful day, huh?” Pain says, and Fun sighs in disgust.

“Not the time to diss my rhyme.”

“No shade, just asking,” Pain says. “Memory’s teaching me to knit, wanna learn?”

So that’s what the two of them were doing.

“No,” Fun says. “No.”

“Vidya games,” Helga offers, holding out a third Wii controller.

Fun shakes his head, and points at Gale.

“I’m pointing at you,” he says. “The rainbows are new.”

Then he grins proudly.

“Hi, Fun,” Gale says, “I have a name now. That was a pretty good couplet.”

“I know,” Fun says, and then pauses, making a face. “Fuck no!”

Gale smiles.

“You forgot to make the rhyme before talking that time, didn’t you.”

“Maybe,” Fun says. “Aw, damn. Come on and slam!”

“You are so cool!” Patton says, finally letting his enthusiasm out. “I love your boa and your shorts and your suspenders! And your rhymes!”

“Do I know you?” Fun asks. “Sparkles, what’s new?”

“Gale,” Gale says. “My name is Gale now.”

Fun’s eyes light up, and he zones out for a moment, muttering under his breath. Then he says,

“Good name, Gale! _Not_ a fail!”

“Thanks,” Gale says, grinning now.

“That’s some real cool glass, and a real hot ass!”

Roman snorts, and Gale cracks up. The rainbows shake.

“Your turn,” Fun says, pointing at Patton. “Uh... cistern?”

“I’m Patton,” Patton says. “I’ve been waiting basically forever to meet you! Is there going to be an awkward thing where you’ve secretly been angry at me for years like with the others, or are we good?”

“I’m super mad,” Fun says jollily, and pauses just long enough for Patton to frown and wonder if he should take it seriously. “Just kidding, dad!”

Patton squeals, clapping his hands, and Roman watches fondly.

“You are just so cute! When can we hang out? I want to know everything about you!”

Fun laughs, pushing the star-shaped sunglasses up his nose.

“We can zoom to my room.”

“Awesome!” Patton says. “Can Roman come too?”

Oh. Patton still wants to hang out with him. Roman could cry with relief.

“Sure sure!”

And with that, Fun grabs their hands and _yanks_ , and they are somewhere else.

* * *

They rematerialise floating in the air.

“Don’t look down,” Fun says. Patton starts to, and Fun lets go of his hand, reaching out quicker than lightning to shove his chin upwards, so he’s looking up instead. “Please don’t clown.”

Roman is having a surprisingly difficult time following Fun’s instructions.

“Why?” he asks.

“You know why. We’re in the sky.”

Roman shut his eyes.

“This is hard,” he says. “Will we be able to look down soon?”

“Never ever.”

“What happens if we look down?” Patton asks.

“No clue, buckaroo.”

“Have you ever looked down?” Patton asks.

“Yes,” says Fun.

“And what happened?”

“Guess.”

Now thoroughly unnerved, Roman opens his eyes to look at Patton, who also looks worried.

“No way is this your room,” Roman says. “That’s-- no.”

“Got no floor. Dinosaur,” Fun says, kicking off from-- whatever-- and lounging in the air with his hands behind his head.

“I can’t handle this!” Patton exclaims. “I’m going to end up looking down, I just know it!”

He grabs Roman’s hand, holding on tightly, and Roman looks Fun right in the ~~eyes~~ star-shaped shades.

“How do we get out?” he says.

Patton’s hand slips suddenly out of his, and Roman looks to his right in alarm. Patton isn’t there.

“Oh dear,” says Fun. He doesn’t finish up with a rhyme, and Roman looks back at him, horrified. He’s watching Roman, beret perched jauntily atop his head.

“Where is Patton?” Roman demands.

“Probably somewhere,” says Fun. His face is blank.

“You stopped rhyming.”

“I can do that, with effort,” Fun says. “I’m trying to take this seriously. So I’ve stopped. Patton is probably somewhere. That is what I can tell you right now.”

“I’m gonna look down,” Roman says.

“Your choice,” says Fun. “Probably a bad one, but still yours. Don’t do anything reckless--”

Roman looks down. He falls ten feet down into a seven foot square column of seawater and sinks for 

( _one_

It’s cold. Patton isn’t anywhere at the surface, so he must be below. Roman swims down.

_two_

It’s getting darker. Roman can hold his breath for twenty seconds while swimming, but he didn’t get much air this time and he’s been short of breath ever since Apathy cut out Creativity. If he counts to five and doesn’t find Patton, he will swim back up.

_three_

Darker and colder. Roman feels it in his bones now.

_four_

There’s something in the water. Roman doesn’t know how he knows this, but he knows.

_five_

Unbidden, Roman hears Logan’s voice in his head: _What exactly is at the bottom of the ocean?_ This is five. He should swim up.

_six_

Which way is up again?)

_seven_ seconds before somehow falling out of the water and onto a hard surface.

“Roman!” says Patton, grabbing his hand and helping him up. They’re both soaking wet. “This place is so weird!!”

Fun falls feet first out of the water and lands dry in a hammock, emerald body paint still perfectly intact.

“Heyo,” he says. There’s pop music playing from somewhere.

“Where’s the door?” Roman asks.

“There is no door, man,” Pain says. Roman blinked and then he was in the hammock too. “Hello, darling,” he says to Fun, snuggling into his side. The body paint doesn’t smudge Pain’s clothes.

“Snarling darling,” Fun says, ruffling Pain’s turquoise hair. “Do you think I’m bad, mister super cool dad?”

“No,” Patton says, frowning. “I’m really just confused. What was the point of those shenanigans up there?”

“Just a prank,” Fun says. “somethin’ tank.”

Pain chuckles quietly, and Fun elbows him.

“Ow!”

“Grow a brain,” Fun says, rolling his eyes. “Dummy Pain.”

“You insult me for the last time,” says Pain dramatically, grabbing Fun by the shoulders and rolling out of the hammock with him. They land on the floor with a crash, and Fun cackles, poking his fingers into Pain’s mouth, which is larger and toothier than Roman has ever seen it. Pain freezes.

“Baby, baby,” Fun coos, and Pain growls. “Pretend you’re gonna hurt me when you’re super scared to hurt me. I dare you to bite me. I dare you to fight me!”

Pain grabs Fun’s wrist and pushes his hand away.

“You always go straight for the most humiliating way to win, don’t you, Fun.”

“Call me Fuck.”

“No.”

“You suck!”

“I’m not gonna call you Fuck, you little rascal,” Pain says, struggling out from under Fun and then shoving him to the floor and pinning him down.

“Like Puck from Shakespeare, with an F instead here,” Fun declares, and Pain pauses.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind Puck.”

Fun shakes his head stubbornly.

“Only Fuck,” he says. “My name is Fuck.”

“Just give up and pick something else,” Pain says, frustrated, and Fun makes an irritated sound, and pokes Pain sharply in the ribs. “Jesus Fuck,” Pain wheezes, collapsing on top of Fun and holding the place Fun poked him.

“Thanks!” Fun says.

“That was my gill!” Pain exclaims. “Fuck!”

“What do you need?” Fun asks, grinning widely. “Didja bleed?”

“I’m not calling you Fuck right now,” Pain says. “I’m using the cuss word.”

“Cuss word, shmuss word. I know what I heard!”

“Do you two want privacy?” Roman asks. He’s shaking, and he isn’t sure why.

“Oh shit,” Fun says. He snaps his fingers, teleporting up to Roman and putting both hands on his chest. “Bad split.”

Roman steps back and hits a wall.

“What?”

“Apathy fucked you over, man,” Pain observes. “That’s gotta ache like hell. How are you still standing?”

“What do you mean?”

Something touches Roman’s hand. He lashes out, but it’s just Patton, looking at him with hurt eyes. Ouch. Why can’t he stop hurting people?

“Something tore you apart,” Fun says. “Something took out your heart.”

“It was Apathy, and he put it back,” Roman says, starting to get annoyed.

“He put it back _wrong_ ,” Fun insists mournfully. “Upside down and wrong. Twisty sideways.”

“I feel fine!”

“Roman,” Patton says, eyes wide and worried, and Roman deflates, letting Fun nudge him into the hammock.

“I don’t even know what’s wrong!” he protests, even as he’s relaxing into the hammock. “How do _you_ know anything’s wrong?”

Fun and Pain exchange a glance.

“Promise not to get creeped out,” Fun says.

Roman frowns, looking at Pain, who isn’t grinning.

“We’ve been down here for a very long time,” Pain says. “Very, very long. Because--”

“Deep sides project their power with more strength, and laughter feels better when it’s done at length.”

“Exactly,” Pain says. “Wow, that was a good one. Did you just come up with that?”

“On the spot,” says Fun, grinning. “Took some thought.”

“I don’t understand,” Roman says.

“Sleep can make you sleep so fast. Memory shares about the past. Hunger influences all the sides, and I don’t have a rhyme here. Slides.”

“So you’re saying that the deep sides can share their old job with everyone?” Patton pipes up. “So we’re all curious because Memory gives us Curiosity, and we all hate being bored because Sleep makes it awful?”

“Right, Patton,” says Pain. “The old attribute stops being represented by just one side and becomes ubiquitous.”

Roman looks at him blankly.

“Commonplace,” Pain substitutes. Roman still isn’t sure. “Universal. Found everywhere. Throughout all of us.”

“Ah, so Gale having Pride back is really really good,” Roman says. 

“Yeah!” says Fun. “Yeah yeah yeah! It’s the best thing to happen around here since Helga started being Helga! She’s so good at being Hunger! I’m forgetting to rhyme but I _gotta_ say this, I love her and I’m glad we have her instead of Dee down here even though I know she wanted to represent Ambition herself instead of giving it out to all of you.”

“Helga’s chill,” Pain says. “But we’re getting off track. Fun and I--”

“Fuck,” Fun interjects, and Pain elbows him.

“Fun and I are the oldest deep sides. So we had a lot of time to change before Thomas’s personality got more solid, and when you’re down here, everything that happens changes you a little, and you start to get a feel for what everything looks like. So lots of the time we can tell when something is broken or weird. Like you.”

“Oh,” Roman says. He doesn’t like that description. “Can you fix me?”

“Totes magotes,” Fun says.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

“Turn it off and on again,” Fun mutters, and Pain scoffs.

“You can’t tell, Fun, but I’m rolling my eyes. Anyway, first we’re gonna look a lot closer at what’s gone wrong, and if it’s what we thought, we’ll remove Creativity and let you put it back in yourself. Apathy probably just did it wrong because he doesn’t understand Creativity, so he doesn’t know you have to care. If you give something the wrong purpose when you put it back, that’s bad.”

“Oh,” Roman says. “So when I gave Pride back--”

“What were you thinking when you put it back?” Pain asks. Fun is leaning over and putting his ear to Roman’s chest.

“I wasn’t really thinking anything,” Roman says. “I was dissociating because Apathy said--”

“Oh jeez,” says Fun. “Uh. Bees.”

“It should be alright,” Pain says. “Thank you for telling us, though. We can keep an eye on him now. But Pride hadn’t already developed a purpose in the context of Sexuality, so it shouldn’t be necessary to give it a specific purpose when you gave it back. It’s probably better if Gale figures that out on his own.”

“Okay,” Roman says. “So do I dissocia--”

“No.”

Fun and Pain say it in unison.

“It’ll hurt,” says Fun. “But-- but-- shirt.”

“It’s going to hurt quite a lot,” Pain says. “But you have to be able to feel for it to work when you take it back.”

And Roman is nothing if not brave. He reaches out to take Patton’s hand, and Patton squeezes.

“You can do this,” Patton tells him.

“Okay,” Roman says, even though he’d rather keep his mouth shut forever than consent to this. “I’m ready.”

Something in him wrenches sideways.

“Oops,” Fun says, frowning down at Roman’s chest.

Roman panics.

“You-- oops? What does that mean?”

Patton squeezes his hand, and Roman remembers to breathe and sucks air in like a vacuum cleaner.

“Just oops,” Fun says, frowning in concentration. “Paige, can you...”

“Yeah,” Pain says.

Something twists, and then pops like Thomas cracking his knuckles, and Roman takes his first deep breath since Apathy took Creativity out of him.

“Oh,” he says.

“Okay,” Fun says. “We’re going to take it out now. You ready?”

“It feels fine now--”

“It seems like it’s one of those things that just gets worse if you leave it,” Patton says, and Roman looks over at him, because he can hear the concern in his voice. “Just... you can do this. It’s going to hurt, but I know you can handle it. You’re our prince!”

Roman hesitates. He doesn’t like pain. He doesn’t like when things hurt. And he’s lived a life relatively free from pain-- or, more free than many around here. A few months ago, he would have said he suffered the most out of all of Thomas’s facets. Logan didn’t seem to feel, and Patton was always so bubbly, and Anxiety-- Anxiety didn’t matter-- but now? Knowing Deceit has to be in pain to tell the truth and endures it regularly just for the freedom to communicate clearly? Knowing Helga had her whole purpose stolen (by _him_ ) when her future seemed clear as day? Knowing-- knowing what he did to Gale, who has already decided that he’ll forgive Roman _someday_?

Roman isn’t stupid. Well, maybe he’s stupid, but he knows when he needs to forget about himself and do the right thing. And he can tell that now is one of those times, no matter how much he hates to admit it. So if all of the others are still around, still able to do their jobs (Roman is ignoring the fact that Deceit has been passed out for weeks), then Roman can handle this. He nods.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m ready.”

There’s a sharp pain deep in his heart, and then Fun touches his chest and-- Roman feels something begin to slide and just sort of nopes out. He watches detachedly as a glowing, sharp-edged thing emerges from his chest, and then, once it’s all the way out, he says,

“I accidentally dissociated.”

“That isn’t good, man,” Pain says. “I don’t know how we’re gonna put it back right if you dissociate on instinct from the pain.”

_Kiss_ , says Roman’s voice. It’s coming from Creativity, where it flutters gently in Fun’s hand.

“Oh,” Patton says.

“What?” says Fun. “Butt.”

Patton gigglesnorts at Fun, then says,

“Um. If... listen, Sleep kissed all of us and made us go to sleep, so if you need to feel--”

“No,” Roman says. “No, I wanna have feelings for all of my second kiss. No way. Um. What’s a better idea?”

“You’re the idea guy,” says Pain.

“Look at me,” Fun says. Roman looks at him. “Five things you see.”

“You want me to list--”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Okay,” Roman says. “Um.” He looks over at Patton. “I see Patton. And... the walls. The fish tank. Are those fish? Um... I see you guys and the water ceiling.”

“Good, good,” says Fun.

“Oh, I know this one! It’s the thing you do to stop dissociating so hard,” Patton says excitedly. “Now four things you hear!”

Roman hears...

“The fish tank bubbling,” he says. There’s an ache in his chest and he notices his heartbeat slowing down. “Um, the sound of me breathing, and I heard your voice a second ago. The music.”

“Now three things you feel.”

The pain is getting much worse now.

“Ah, um... My chest hurts, a lot. And... I feel the hammock.” He squeezes Patton’s hand. “Oh, it hurts.”

“Are you better now?” Pain asks, and when Roman shakes his head, Fun holds out Creativity and slides it gently into his hand.

“Put it back,” Fun says softly.

Roman sighs in relief as soon as he touches Creativity. He’s just... he’s so glad that he can go back to normal now. He was only messed up inside for a few minutes, but it wasn’t comfortable, and he can’t imagine how Gale must have felt, being this way for years on end. He can’t wait to brainstorm ways to make it up to him.

He presses Creativity to his chest and lets it slide back into place.

“Oh, that’s much better,” he says. He smiles. “Patton, if chess doesn't work, you should have them play twister.”

“Ooo, good idea!” Patton says. “Thank you guys so much for helping us!”

“No problem,” says Pain.

“Have a snack,” says Fun, manifesting a carton of goldfish.

Roman takes a handful, and then recoils when he sees the teeth, scattering goldfish across the floor. Because these goldfish have teeth.

“Fuck!” he says, and Pain cackles, falling over into Fun and leaning on him for support.

“Yes, Roman?” Fun says, grinning so wide that Roman can see every bracket of his braces.

“The snack that smiles back,” Pain says. “Oh my god, your face, man. That was fuckin’ gold.”

“That wasn’t funny!” Roman protests, but it doesn’t make either of them stop laughing. Great. This is juuust great. “Patton, lets go.”

“How do we get out of here?” Patton asks, and Fun raises a hand to snap his fingers. Roman grabs Patton’s hand as Fun transports them back and Pain continues to cackle.

Back in the common room, Gale is holding a Wii controller and pressing the buttons while his character in mario kart runs up against a tree.

“Having fun?” Roman asks.

Gale nods, and Roman watches curiously as he backs his kart up and gets back onto the road.

“How are you doing that?” Patton asks, and Gale shrugs.

“Trade secret,” he says. The track turns, and Gale follows it unsteadily.

“Gale,” Roman says, and Gale pauses the game.

“Yes?”

Roman looks over at Patton, who nods and squeezes his hand. He takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for taking Pride. I didn’t realise what I was doing, but that isn’t an excuse. So if there’s ever anything you need, just let me know.”

Gale sighs, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Roman...” He smiles, glowing (literally) brighter than the TV screen. “To be honest, I doubt I’ll ever need anything from you. Including an apology.”

“Okay,” Roman says. He feels awkward. He apologised, but he doesn’t feel much better about himself.

But that’s not the point of an apology, anyway, is what Patton would tell him. Patton would say that an apology is for the person you’ve hurt, not for you, and if they don’t want to accept it, they don’t have to.

This isn’t about Roman. He thought he knew that, but he hadn’t really accepted it before. But Gale rejected his apology, and Roman accepted his reality. He can’t be in the spotlight all the time. It hurts, because he built his identity around that light, around the brightness shining so hard in his eyes it’s almost blinding. His pride has controlled him for a very long time.

Maybe now, he can branch out and start creating things not for acknowledgement but for himself. Maybe his worth comes from more than his performance onstage or in front of a camera. Maybe... maybe a little darkness in his room is a good thing once in a while. After all, without the dark, there’s no reason to shine a light.

* * *

Deceit wakes up on New Year’s Eve, and Roman agonises for almost ten minutes on how to make it clear he doesn’t really mind him that much anymore, even if he did try and use him to make Thomas lie. He eventually settles on offering him a cracker.

“Deceit!” he says, maybe a little bit too excited. “Pull open a cracker with me!”

“A cracker? Is this like the Pocky game? I’d rather not, especially with how rude you are to--”

“Pocky game? What on Earth is that?”

“Well, Roman,” Patton begins. Roman looks at him and can’t help also smiling. “I’m glad you asked. It’s--”

“Don’t you dare tell him about the Pocky game,” says-- Roman knows that voice! It’s his eternal foe, Mr. Sleep! “He’ll be ten times more insufferable.”

“Don’t kiss me!” Roman exclaims dramatically, mostly joking at this point. He moves so that Patton is between him and Sleep; Patton will protect his honor! “Stay back!”

“I would rather spend eight hours in a bed with Anxiety than kiss you,” Sleep declares, and Roman gasps, exaggerating his reaction for comedic effect.

“Hey!” he says. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re ugly, loser,” Sleep says, and Roman gasps in an imitation of shock, glad Sleep is playing along. Otherwise, Roman would look like a huge jerk.

“I still want to know what the Pocky game is,” he says, once he’s finished being dramatic, and Patton laughs. Wow. He’s just so gorgeous. It’s unfair.

“I’ll show you,” Patton says. He snaps, manifesting a box of Pocky. “This is Pocky,” he says.

“I know what Pocky is,” Roman says. “I just didn’t know there was a game. What’s the game?”

Patton puts a stick of Pocky between his teeth and begins to speak around it. His lips are very nice-looking.

“We both start eating the Pocky from either end, and whoever eats more of it wins.”

“Amazing!” Roman says. “Let’s begin.”

He grins, and leans in. He is so totally gonna win. Patton won’t know what hit him.

“On your mark...”

Roman bites the other end and waggles his eyebrows at Patton.

“Get-set-go!”

Caught off guard, Roman lurches forwards with too much enthusiasm, and he bangs his head against Patton’s. The Pocky breaks off just outside his mouth and Patton brings a hand up to keep the larger part safe from Roman while he eats the whole thing.

“Hey!” Roman protests. “That was not fair, I _demand_ a rematch!”

“Alright,” Patton says, taking out another stick of Pocky.

“And count properly this time!” Roman adds.

“On your mark... get set... go!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Roman sees Logan kiss Virgil, and that kills his focus. Patton wins again.

“Did you see that,” Roman says, barely bothering to swallow his tiny fragment of Pocky first. “Logan just kissed Virgil. Like, he lost chess and then kissed him! It worked!”

“I knew it would,” Patton says, radiating pride. “You’re a genius.”

“I know,” Roman says. “But no amount of flattery will spare you from my princely retribution! Prepare a Pocky!”

Patton gets a third Pocky out.

It happens in less than two seconds.

Roman takes the lead right off the bat, and Patton narrows his eyes.

Patton tries to make up for lost time, but Roman has already reached the middle of the stick and bitten it.

He opens his mouth-- rude; unbecoming of a prince; his mouth is full of Pocky!-- but he just _has_ to brag.

Patton moves just a little too close, just a little too quickly.

Roman doesn’t figure out what’s happening until Patton pulls back-- there’s something soft against his lips, something soft and warm and wet, and Patton’s eyes are very sparkly from this close up--

Roman blinks. He blinks again.

Patton shuts his mouth and swallows, then wipes the excess chocolate on his arm. Roman’s eyes follow the movement almost robotically.

He should say something. He doesn’t know what to say. This was not how he planned it going. He was supposed to have a perfect confession and a perfect second kiss with a perfect buildup and perfect execution and instead he has a mouthful of rapidly degrading Pocky. And neither of them are saying anything.

Roman swallows. It feels like swallowing snakes.

“I have to go-- walk my-- printer,” he chokes out, and he runs before Patton can process what he’s said.

What just happened.

_Patton kissed you_ , supplies Roman’s brain helpfully. _His lips were so soft, weren’t they? Wow._

“Oh my god, I ran away,” Roman groans. His bed beckons him into its pillowy embrace, and Roman succumbs, staring up at the ceiling mournfully and trying very hard not to absently touch his lips.

_Patton kissed him. He kissed Patton. They kissed._

Patton didn’t apologise.

Oh god. Maybe Roman should have apologised. He doesn’t know. He didn’t mean to kiss Patton, but-- Patton probably didn’t mean to kiss him either. Maybe he thought Roman did it on purpose. Maybe he was waiting for Roman to say sorry.

Maybe Roman was wrong this whole time. Maybe the way Patton looks at him is just paternal, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing-- falling in love with someone whose only feelings towards him are fatherly-- Roman shudders. It’s too painful to contemplate, for both his pride and his heart.

Roman remembers being certain that Patton was in love with him, and he doesn’t know how he was so sure. His former confidence baffles him. Because truly, nothing is certain. Nothing is guaranteed. Patton loves him, yes-- but _how_ does he love him? In what way?

That’s the question. And Roman is screwed, because he doesn’t think he has the courage to ask it.

* * *

There’s a knock on Roman’s door, and he pauses in his worrying long enough to answer it.

“Oh. Virgil.”

Virgil sighs, and crosses his arms.

“You’re like, super worried about something stupid right now, I can feel it from all the way across the mindspace.”

Roman scoffs, and tries to slam his door, but Virgil sticks his foot in the doorway.

“I’m so not,” he says, and Virgil heaves a sigh.

“It’s something to do with Patton,” he says. “Is Patton hurt, or something? Why are you so worried?”

Roman makes eye contact with Virgil and suddenly remembers that Patton is Virgil’s friend too-- possibly his best friend. He sighs.

“No, Patton’s fine,” he says. “Did you not see? He showed me this weird thing called the pocky game and we accidentally kissed. And then I ran. Like a coward!”

“Patton kissed you... and so you _ran away_?” Virgil says dubiously.

“I know,” Roman bemoans, tossing himself back onto his bed. “What if he thinks I hate him? What if he thinks I don’t want to kiss him again? I can’t believe my second kiss was an accident!”

“You know Patton is probably in his room right now having this exact same crisis, right?” Virgil says, and Roman pauses, frowning. “Except I bet he’s being a little less dramatic about it. But dude, seriously. He obviously still loves you.”

Roman chokes on air.

“D-don’t say that word!” he exclaims, and Virgil rolls his eyes.

“What? You mean love?”

“Shhhhut it!” Roman says. “You’ll jinx it!”

“Roman, literally no force in the entire universe is strong enough or dumb enough to even try and make that man want someone other than you. What I want to know is why it took you so long to do anything about it. I thought you were just fucking around with him at first, but if you love him too--”

“Stop saying the L-word!” Roman shouts in anguish. “Ughh, I was just-- waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment. Besides, why haven’t you made a move on Logan, if you’re so smart? Didn’t he kiss you when you beat him at chess? Good job on that, by the way.”

“I have to let him think it’s his idea,” Virgil says. “Or he’ll have a whole big crisis about feelings and shit.”

“Well _that_ isn’t how it should work,” Roman says, frowning. “If he wants to hole up in his logicloset and analyse it to death instead of doing it again, that’s his loss. He should be talking to you about it!”

Virgil sighs.

“I dunno,” he says. “I don’t want to mess it up. And if-- I’m not sure he even likes me. Maybe he was just, y’know, experimenting, like Apathy was.”

“I thought you said Apathy kissed you on a dare.”

Virgil sticks his hands into his hoodie pockets and retreats into his hood. He takes a step towards the door.

“Nevermind. I’ll figure it out--”

“No, no, wait,” Roman says. “I want to help you. I’m not going to make fun of you or insult you, promise. You get a free pass out of the snub club this time. So get back in here and let me do my job, okay?”

“Fine,” Virgil grumbles. “Just. I don’t know. I’m worried.”

“Because Logan thinks Apathy is a good role model and Apathy kissed you for scummy reasons?”

Virgil shrugs. Roman waits.

“...Yeah, I guess.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Roman says. “But why did Apathy really kiss you?”

Virgil hesitates.

“You’re not gonna make fun of me.”

“Of course not.”

“Not even later? You won’t use this to insult me or make me feel like crap?”

“I promise,” Roman says. “Look, I-- I owe you yet another apology. Jeez. Um. This is probably getting old for you. But I’m sorry for always thinking the worst of you. I’m trying to work on that.”

Virgil sighs, and gives his hands a quick but vigorous flap, then sticks them back in his pockets.

“Patton put you up to this, didn’t he.”

Roman scoffs.

“He pointed out it was a problem, but he didn’t tell me to apologise! I just-- you deserve to know that, when I treat you unfairly, it’s not anything to do with you, it’s just because of my problems. And I wanted to tell you I’m stopping. I’m not going to do that anymore.”

“Oh.”

“Hey! You’ve completely changed the subject, you caffiendish little-- I’m sorry, what I mean to say is _how dare you distract me from the task at hand, you-- you-- Virgil!_.”

Virgil snorts.

“Nice one, using my name as an insult. Real classy.”

“You’re trying to change the subject again,” Roman says, pointing his finger at Virgil. “If you don’t want to tell me, just say you don’t want to tell me.”

“No, I do want to tell you. It’s just... it’s all really complicated and I don’t even know what to think of it all myself.”

“Well, that isn’t a problem,” Roman says. “I’ll help you. We can figure it out together. That’s what friends are for. Even if we do tend to alternate between friends and rivals--”

“You think we’re rivals?” Virgil asks. He sounds very, very confused.

“Well, yes. A while ago I would have picked a more drastic word, but--”

“I assumed you just hated me,” Virgil says. “Woah.”

“No, I don’t hate-- hey! Quit changing the subject!”

“Fine,” Virgil says. “I don’t know for sure why Apathy kissed me. At first he said-- he said it was because Ennui dared him to do it. Like, right afterwards. But then once Sleep was a deep side, Apathy started saying it was more like a bet. Like, to prove he wasn’t gay.”

“Yikes on bikes,” Roman says, horrified, and Virgil snorts.

“Yup.”

“So-- I see what you’re thinking. You think Logan wants to prove to himself he doesn’t have a crush on you, so he kissed you to make sure?”

“I mean-- I don’t know. He said he wanted to do it again, but--”

“Then he wants to do it again! Virgil, why is this an issue?”

Virgil shrinks down into his hoodie.

“I-- Apathy-- we were sort of friends. He said he liked me, anyway, and he even-- he asked first if he could kiss me. Then right after he kissed me he grabbed my hand and told me, _Ennui dared me to do that. But I don’t mind._ He said he didn’t mind! That’s basically the same deal as _I want to do it again_. God, I can see his face in my head still, I remember exactly how he looked afterwards, with his hair a little messed up and everything, it was-- like, not as gorgeous as Logan focusing on chemistry, but it was up there, as far as hot things go. And before that I guess I was sort of struggling, with um, being gay? But... I didn’t feel as bad anymore, like-- it was like, oh, that was fun and good, this is okay. But then he let go of my hand, went to his room, and started absorbing Ennui so he’d have to become a deep side. As far as I know he hasn’t touched anyone since then, except for recently. So--”

“Virgil,” Roman says. “Is it possible to vanquish another side without harming Thomas irreparably?”

Virgil blinks.

“Definitely not. You could maybe absorb him, but then you’d be Apathy in addition to the rest of your stuff, and that’d be pretty bad.”

“Well, darn,” Roman says. “Because honestly-- I cannot believe anyone would to that to anyone. Especially to you. Who does that? Who says they don’t mind and then screws over the person who made them do it? That’s just so weird!”

“Yeah. Tell me about it,” Virgil says. “Especially since he-- I talked to him a few times about-- how I was feeling. He _knew_ I was having a hard time back then, and now he-- he almost said the f-slur a few weeks ago, right in my face.”

“Holy crap,” Roman says. “Really? God, what a dick.”

“Pretty much.” Virgil sighs. “And like, I don’t really care anymore, it doesn’t hurt me, but back then it would’ve killed me. So that’s why I have to let Logan figure it out on his own. If I make him...”

“Oh, right, as if you could make _Logic_ do anything he didn’t already want to do,” Roman scoffs. “Honestly, I think he’s being a little ridiculous, but what do I know! I’m only the master of romance.”

Virgil frowns.

“Wait a second,” he says. “You-- I came in here to talk to you about Patton. Which you’re still worried about. _You’re_ the one who changed the subject, not me! Go get your man, d*mbass, I can talk to-- I don’t know-- Gale, or someone, about this.”

“Didn’t Gale say you were his ex?” Roman asks.

“That’s not important right now. What _is_ important is that you go talk to Patton and tell him you love him--”

“Gah!! Stop saying love! And you can’t go to your ex for romantic advice, that’s--”

“He said to visit,” Virgil says. “We only dated for like a month anyway. It’ll be fine. Even if he can’t help me, he can commiserate about Apathy being a shithead, since they’re like, friends now, or whatever.”

“Apathy and Sexuality are friends?” Roman says in shock. “How does that--”

“Go!” Virgil interrupts. “If I have to drag you to Patton’s room, I will do it. Go get your third kiss, you idiot. Third time’s the charm!”

“Fine, but we are not finished with this conversation!”

“Whatever.”

Virgil rolls his eyes and ducks out the door before Roman can stop him, and then-- oh god. Roman really has no choice but to head to Patton’s room.

* * *

“Hello? Patton, are you in there?”

“Patton isn’t here right now,” Patton says from within. “He’s in regretter town.”

“Oh,” Roman says shakily. He doubts himself for just a moment, and then remembers what Virgil said. And-- he will not cower! Even if he is doomed to fail, he will still face his future boldly, head and sword held high! “Well, that’s a shame. I don’t even know where regretter town is. I’ve certainly never been there. Especially not within the past few hours. That wasn’t sarcasm, I don’t regret a thing.”

Patton opens the door. He’s standing there in his cat onesie, with his cat hoodie hanging off his head by the hood.

“It was a Gravity Falls reference,” he says, and Roman can tell he’s been crying. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken your second kiss without asking. I was being selfish.”

He looks absolutely miserable.

“Never fear,” Roman says. “Though it does sting that my second kiss was just an accident, I still have my third kiss, and you know what they say! Third time’s the charm. And I know just who I want to share it with.”

“That’s nice,” Patton says glumly, cluelessly. “I hope it’s perfect.” He starts to close the door. Roman sticks his foot in the doorframe and reaches out to touch Patton’s chin because it’s hard for two allistic people to have a heartfelt moment while one of them is staring at his shoes.

“It would be rather difficult to share a kiss with a door between us,” he says, and Patton sniffles.

“Please don’t make fun of me,” he says. His lower lip wobbles. Roman frowns.

“Can I come in?”

He pushes through the doorway even as Patton is shaking his head and shuts the door so he can lean back against it.

“Roman--”

“I shouldn’t have run away,” Roman says. “If there’s one thing I regret, it’s that. I should have stayed, because I did want to kiss you and I still want to kiss you. What would convince you of my sincerity, Patton? A declaration of love? A hug? Seventy-four kittens? I will give you all those things and more if you ask it of me, my love. I mean it. I cannot emphasise enough the full and utter honesty with which I bare my soul to your vision. Search your feelings. You know it’s true. You know I would never lie to you. I especially wouldn’t lie about this.”

Patton sniffles again, but with a more hopeful tone this time.

“You mean-- I could feel that you were in love with _someone_ , I just thought... It’s me? You’re in love with me?”

“Who else?” Roman says, standing up from the door. “Of course it’s you, Patton, you’re the only one I could love this way, the only man to make my heart ache with his absence the way it did as I foolishly fled the scene of my second kiss; only you cause it to bleed in your very presence for lack of closeness, only you bid it leap when you catch my sight, only you make it beat like a Geiger counter the closer I am to you. Embrace me, my dear, if you feel the same-- for no longer can I wait in anguish. Truly, I should thank you, for had you not taken that kiss, I may have languished for countless additional days, hoping and imagining that you reciprocated my affections as strongly as I felt them. I cannot help but assume that you must, as you seemed in much distress upon my arrival-- but nevermind that! Take my third kiss, and my fourth, and every one after-- you have made me a better man, Patton, and you have confronted me with my mistakes when my eyes would have remained closed to them without your interference. You’re the best partner I could wish for, Patton, and I can only hope that I may play the same role in your life as you have in mine. I love you, Patton. I have loved you for a long time and I hope to continue loving you for an interval many times that length.”

Roman stops talking to breathe and steps further into the room, approaching Patton cautiously. Patton is looking at him with his mouth open in shock and delight, and Roman can tell from the way his eyes are shining exactly what’s about to happen. Patton surges towards him, and then Roman is flat on his back with Patton clinging to him like a koala or a frightened kitten or-- like _Patton_. The hug feels better than slaying dragon-witches.

“I love you,” Patton says. “I’ve already said it, but now you know what it means. You’re the greatest, Roman, you’re my one and only. I love you more than cookies. I love you more than puppies. I love you more than dad jokes!”

“Wow,” Roman says, and Patton kisses him. It feels like in the movies, when the kiss happens and the music surges and everything glows. Roman feels like he’s glowing, like he’s flying, like every single cliche that’s ever shared a sentence with a kiss. 

Patton pulls back (but not far), and declares,

“This makes you co-dad!”

There’s a knock on the door. Patton wrinkles his nose at it, and Roman heaves a happy sigh, unable to look away from Patton’s beautiful, beautiful face.

“I’ll get that,” he says.

It’s Logan.

“Oh, hello, Roman,” he says. There’s a lot more emotion on his face than usual, but Roman doesn’t have time to catalogue all of it. “Have you seen Virgil? He doesn’t seem to be in his room.”

Roman blinks, taken aback.

“I think he’s hanging out with some of the deep sides right now,” he says, rolling his eyes, because seriously, Roman may not have an ex of his own, but he knows it’s a terrible idea to go to an ex for romantic advice. You just don’t do that sort of thing! “Is that all?”

“What are you doing in Patton’s room?”

“Rehearsing a play,” Roman lies automatically, because he doesn’t want to tell anyone else without Patton right there with him. He shuts the door before Logan can dig any further and turns back to Patton, who has raised one eyebrow. He’s smirking.

“Rehearsing a play? What’s it about?”

“Two lovers,” Roman says. “One named Romeo, the other...”

“Juliet?”

“Of course not,” Roman says, shaking his head. “This will not end in tragedy. The other is named Patrick.”

“And Romeo is a prince--”

“Yes, a prince! But who cares about fiction. We have the whole night ahead of us, Patton. We can watch _so many_ Disney movies!”

“By watch, I assume you mean let them play in the background while I kiss you again, right?”

Roman frowns.

“That would be sacrilegious, Patton, of course not-- I’m just messing with you, of course that’s what I mean.”

“Well,” Patton says, with a sappy-sweet smile on his face. “That sounds like kissmas all over again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me what you think about:  
> will's dad  
> apathy  
> fun x pain  
> gale playing mario kart somehow  
> virgil and roman talking  
> roman's super extra declaration of love


	6. (Never) Leave Me Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8435 words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever... mostly because I was in denial about the fact that I couldn't fit the rest of the story into one chapter. There will probably be 8 chapters in this fic.
> 
> Title is from [Lost](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7j1xf69jXz0) by BTS. Runner up for this chapter's title was "Time's so cruel (I hate us)" from Spring Day by BTS. Spring Day fits Roman and Gale, but Lost fits Gale's arc a little better.
> 
> Oh man oh man! I wrote Apathy's dialogue in the last scene just over two months ago, so it's super duper exciting to finally be posting this! I hope you all enjoy this, it's in Gale's POV! 
> 
> Also you might want to watch [this](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bl0lGZQHgMo/) short again before you read :3 I might have made it A Thing.
> 
> This chapter has some colours in it. Your screen isn't broken, I did that on purpose and it took forever. If you don't like it, you can turn it off by clicking the "Hide Creator's Style" button at the top, and then the weird colours will be gone.
> 
> Also, there's an extended flashback that's not in italics because I do all my html by hand and I will never willingly put emphasis tags around fifty paragraphs in a row.
> 
> I reaaaally wanted to post this chapter with only an ominous smiley face in the beginning notes, but there's a bit too much I needed to say here lol.

“Do you want to play mario kart?” Helga offers, just after Patton and-- ugh, Roman-- have disappeared with Fun. Gale shrugs, and holds out a hand for the controller.

“You know what? Sure.”

He feels the remote she hands him, making sure he remembers where all the buttons are, and then holds down 2 when the race begins. After a moment, he’s pretty sure he’s gotten stuck somewhere, because his remote is buzzing angrily. He doesn’t ask for help, though. He wants to see if he can remember the courses well enough to get through them.

It becomes apparent rather quickly that he can’t, when all the computer controlled players have passed the finish line and the race ends. Damn, that’s disappointing. So he tries again, and ends up sitting there listening to the sounds of the computer controlled players zooming around, and then the race ends automatically with him, predictably, in twelfth place.

He’ll try one more time.

“After this race, I think I’ll be done,” he says.

“Alright,” says Helga.

He starts off - N64 Sherbet Land, one of his favourite courses from before he went blind. He can’t remember what direction the course goes at first-- but then there’s a whisper in his ear.

“Right, then left, in three, two... now.”

Gale furrows his brow, and cautiously turns to the right. There’s no buzz, and he doesn’t hear the lackatoo sound effect either. Hm. He turns left, then, and there’s still nothing.

He hears the sound effect that happens when you hit a question block. So he should be coming up on the part of the course with the big rock in the middle. He can’t remember if there’s another weird turn before that, though.

“Same thing again,” says the voice, and Gale realises it’s Apathy. How interesting. Gale does the same thing again, and then hears the “you bumped into something” sound effect. “Left or right around the rock. You have a mushroom, by the way.”

Gale goes right, because he’s pretty sure there’s no risk of falling into the water in that direction. And... zoom! Ah, the sweetest sound he knows... He must’ve hit the acceleration ramp.

“Caves next,” Apathy says, and Gale nods. “You’re gonna hit--”

Gale hears the wipeout sound.

“Penguin,” he says, making a face.

“Left a little,” Apathy says. “No, not that much-- there. You’re straight now.”

“Wow, you’re doing much better all of a sudden,” Helga says. “I guess it finally clicked.”

“Yeah,” Gale mutters. “Thanks.”

Great! Another wall-hitting sound effect.

“Did someone run into me?” Gale asks.

“Yeah,” Helga says. “You were going straight before, though.”

“I’m never straight,” Gale says.

“A little right,” says Apathy. “Just a little bit.”

“Thanks,” Gale says.

“Hm?” says Helga.

“She can’t see me,” Apathy says. “She doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Nothing,” says Gale.

He still ends up in last place, but it’s a lot more fun now that he knows sort of what’s going on.

“You sure you’re done?” Helga asks, and Gale shrugs.

“I guess I could play a few more races.”

Roman comes back in while he’s playing and distracts him with bullshit, and Gale flashes him a smile he only halfway means and tells him basically to go away

“Are you really going to forgive him?” Apathy asks, and Gale shrugs.

“I was feeling generous when I said that,” he murmurs. “And I felt like I had to, yknow, since he’s so important. But I actually might not. I don’t know yet.”

“I don’t think you should,” Apathy says. “Maybe act like you have, so he doesn’t start any drama. But I wouldn’t forgive him. I haven’t forgiven him.”

“Me neither,” Gale says. And that is that.

* * *

Later that evening, Gale is lounging in his bedroom thinking about men when there’s a polite tapping at his vent cover. He snaps, and it falls onto his carpet without a sound. The side that climbs out has a tie and glasses-- it’s Logan, Gale can tell just by his mannerisms.

“Hey there,” Gale says. “Sup?”

“I just wanted to check in,” Logan says. “How are you feeling? Do you think it went well?”

Gale doesn’t need to ask what he means.

“It went better than I could’ve imagined,” he says. “It was... well, you might not be the best one to talk about this with.”

Logan pauses, and Gale can tell he’s offended.

“Why not?”

“You don’t really do much with feelings, do you?”

“Well, no,” Logan says. He sighs, and pushes his glasses up. “I would still like to support you.”

Gale blinks, surprised. It’s been a while since he’s had a friend close enough to talk to about his feelings. He has Helga, but she’s busy with all the chaos that comes with owning a restaurant and he doesn’t like to bother her with his problems when she’s already heard them fifty times.

“Alright,” he says. “It was scary. I hope that wasn’t obvious.”

“You didn’t look scared,” Logan says. “I wouldn’t have guessed it from watching you, though of course I knew you had doubts.”

Gale sighs.

“It was awful,” he says quietly. “Everything happened so quickly, and now I suddenly have Pride back...”

“Yes, it was all rather abrupt,” Logan agrees. “May I sit?”

Gale pats the bed, and Logan sits awkwardly on the end of it, legs crossed.

“I just... if it was that easy, why didn’t he give it back years ago?” Gale asks, feeling the velvety fabric of his covers and letting the texture against his fingertips calm him down.

“I get the impression that Roman hadn’t realised he stole it,” Logan says, and Gale shuts his eyes even though he can’t see, as--

Suddenly, he is somewhere else. His body is opaque, not clear, and right now, he can see. Gale knows exactly what memory this is, and he does not want to relive it. 

“Percival!”

Roman’s voice. Gale’s body turns, and there is Roman, younger, messy lipstick smeared across his mouth. Percy laughs. 

“Ro, what the fuck.”

Roman gasps dramatically.

“Percy cussed!” he shouts. “Peeeercy! No cursing, you shithead!”

Roman bursts into giggles, and Percy laughs with him, snapping his fingers to fix Roman’s makeup just because he can. Gale feels trapped, like he’s just watching this happen, watching from inside as someone else moves their body around.

“How do you get it to look so good?” Roman asks, and Percy laughs another time. Gale aches. It hurts, it hurts so badly.

“Witchcraft, obviously,” he says. Roman shoves him, and Percy elbows him in the ribs.

“I’m gonna try again.”

Roman snaps, removing the makeup, and then-- Percy stumbles.

“Ack,” he says. “Shiiit. I think I’m getting sick.”

“Sides don’t get sick,” Roman says, not really paying attention, leaning close to his mirror to focus on his lipstick.

“No, really,” Percy says. “I’ve been feeling off for weeks, it’s weird as fuck. I-- shit.”

Something shifts within his chest and Gale wants to shut his eyes and plug his ears. He wants-- he wants his friend, Roman, who lit the dark with his ideas and made everything less scary. He wants the soft, cream-coloured beanbag chair he made in Roman’s room that just stayed there more or less permanently, and he wants his friend’s voice, telling stories to lull him to sleep. He misses Roman, and it hurts, because Roman is different now, sharper, less bearable, like he’s a pile of broken shovels in a vacuum sealed bag, flaws sticking out more with the air sucked out. He misses sleepovers in Roman’s room. He misses the nightlight, shaped like an owl, that Logan was convinced to make after Roman’s fear of the dark kept Thomas up too late several nights in a row; supposedly to make things and be creative, but really just because he didn’t want the light turned off. Gale remembers when they were the only ones left who would admit to being scared of the dark, and how it made Roman high five him and declare him ‘the only one who understood him.’ When Thomas was very young, they shared a room like brothers, and Gale misses that more than anything.

Gale hates him. He hates Roman, for hurting him, for forgetting him, for thinking an apology could ever be enough to make up for what he stole. Roman took everything from him, and Gale cannot forgive that.

Percy wouldn’t have forgiven him either, and it’s this thought that carries Gale through the memory even though he’d rather black out and dissociate completely. Despite losing Roman, he is still himself. He can make it through this. He can relive his worst memory and come out the other end.

Roman turns. The room is brighter for some reason, and Percy has to squint to see.

“Woah,” Roman says. He looks confused. “That’s weird,” he says. “Percy?”

“You’ve messed your lipstick up again,” Percy says, and Roman doesn’t respond. He reaches out, and Percy gasps as Roman’s hand goes _through_ him. “What--”

Roman is frowning at his hand, not looking Percy in the eye.

“That’s weird,” he says again.

“What are you-- what’s even happening?” Percy says, struggling to speak, as Roman’s hand takes hold of something within his chest.

“Oh, that’s neat,” Roman says to himself. He starts to pull his hand back, and Percy chokes on air as his vision cuts out for a moment before returning. Nothing hurts yet, but Gale knows that will come later. 

“Roman,” Percy says. “Roman, let go.”

“It’s like a nightlight,” Roman says, and Percy glances over at the owl-shaped nightlight-- the owl-shaped nightlight isn’t there.

“What’s happening?” Percy says. “Roman, what the fuck. What are you--”

Roman brings his hand towards his face, and Percy falls to his knees as something is torn out of him. He’s dizzy, but he can see a glowing light in Roman’s hand, illuminating his face. He looks friendly.

“Holy shit,” Percy gasps. “Roman, what the fuck did you just do? Put it back, put it-- please--”

Roman isn’t listening. Roman can’t hear him. The nightlight is gone and so is the beanbag chair Percy made, which doesn’t make sense; Percy didn’t unmanifest it. Roman’s room is changing around him. The drawing Percy made of the two of them riding an elephant now just has Roman, and instead of Percy’s name written in the corner, it’s Roman’s, like-- like something is editing the mindspace to take Percy out, make him invisible. He looks down at his hands, and they’re flickering between clear and translucent. Fuck. What the fuck.

“Roman!” Percy shouts. Roman blinks, and looks directly at him for a moment. He frowns.

“Woah,” he says. “Percy\-- so soon? I--”

The light in Roman’s hand begins to glow so bright it hurts, and Percy closes his eyes.

He’s so dizzy.

He opens his eyes in a dim room with a window and no doors. He looks down at his hands. They appear to be made of glass. He snaps to manifest a mirror on the wall and what he sees reflected there makes him want to throw up.

His hands are glassy, and the transformation has progressed up his forearms. His face and torso are still flesh, but Percy can feel the glass creeping upwards like an itch. Oh, this is bad. This is very bad.

Percy closes his eyes, and snaps, trying to get back to Roman’s room, but nothing happens.

“Shit,” he mutters. His stomach lurches as he glances at the mirror, and a wave of something crashes over him even as he banishes the mirror. He feels like he’s being tossed about, dragged across sand by salty water. Oh, it hurts. It’s sucking him under, and Percy realises he does not want to know what he will find there. He does not want to know what lies at the bottom of this ocean of confusion.

He snaps, summoning elbow-length gloves and legwarmers, and he means for them to be red like his sash, but they come out a greyish-pink. Strange. Terrifying. Percy sobs, and shuts his eyes as dread falls over him like a blanket too heavy to lift, like that time his and Roman’s fort collapsed and he felt trapped for just a moment before Roman stood up under the blanket, giggling, and took his hand, and they chased Ambition around until she got fed up and snapped her fingers, dispelling Roman’s comforter without permission. The thought almost makes Percy smile, but there’s something moving nearby, like cloth sliding across the ground.

Percy opens his eyes just in time to see a vent cover rocket out of the wall and slam into the other wall. It crashes to the ground with a clang, and someone climbs out of the vent. Percy takes a few steps back, wary.

“Hey there!” says this person, with strange eyes and greenish hair. It’s either green or teal. He’s familiar for some reason, and Percy can’t quite place it until he smiles.

“Freddy?” he says, and Freddy takes a discombobulated step back.

“Wow, holy shit,” he says. “It has been quite a while since anyone’s called me that, I’ll tell you. Anyway, welcome to Deep HQ, good to have ya here.”

“What’s happening?” Percy says, a little distrustful. “Why am I here, why am I turning into-- what’s happening to me?”

Freddy sighs.

“Fuck, man. This isn’t good, I’ll be honest with you. You’re here because, well... one of the others tried to absorb you. Maybe it wasn’t on purpose, but that’s how it works! And with the way you’ve only got the one trait-- I mean, unless you’ve absorbed someone without me noticing, which is unlikely-- you probably won’t survive past the next week! But don’t be sad, don’t be scared, your sacrifice was not in vain yadda yadda, it’s all for the betterment of Our Friend Thomas--”

“I don’t understand,” Percy says. His voice shakes.

“Well, that’s just how it goes sometimes,” Freddy says. “As for your other question, I don’t know why you’re changing in whatever particular way you are, but we all change when we sink into obscurity,” Freddy says. “Take me, for example! I didn’t always have these luscious turquoise ringlets, perfect teeth, and obsidian orbs like pools of molten tar. Or something.”

“That looks more like teal to me,” Percy says. 

“Fuck you,” says Freddy. “Look, man. I’m sorry this is happening to you, but that’s the way it is. I’ve seen it all before, at least three times. It happened to Courage and Honesty too. You were Pride, weren’t you? Hm, that’s a little weird, I can’t quite see Morality wanting that-- and he already got Feelings, anyway. That was a long time ago, I always forget that. So, who was it?”

“What?”

“Who killed you? Who got Pride? Was it Logic? Ooohh, I can see him doing that--”

“I’m not dead,” Percy says. “I-- what are you-- I just want to go home.”

“Nah, that’s not really how it works,” Freddy says.

“Freddy--”

“It’s Paige,” Freddy says. “Not Freddy. I’m Pain now.”

He grins, and Percy blinks as his mouth expands, more teeth appearing to fill it as it does so.

“Fucking hell,” Percy mutters. He has begun to feel annoyed. “I’m not fucking dead, okay, I’m right here talking to you, I’m fine--”

There’s a strange sensation in his legs, in the glass creeping slowly up his body, like pins and needles. Percy gasps, and stumbles, falling to his knees. Freddy-- Paige doesn’t move to help him up.

“Ah, jeez, I’m gonna go,” Paige says. “I’m real sorry, man, but I don’t want to see this.”

“No,” Percy says. “Tell me what’s happening to me. You owe--”

“You better stop right there,” Paige says, voice quiet as death. The room darkens threateningly and Percy shivers, suddenly remembering why he and Roman didn’t mess with Freddy back when he was around. “I’ve seen enough of you fuckers die, I refuse to do it again. I do not owe you that.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy says. “I’m scared. I don’t want to be alone. And I think I fucking deserve an explanation.”

“Fuuuck,” says Paige. “Listen, man... I’m sorry this happened to you. But it’s not... I can’t help you. I can’t save you.”

“I don’t need you to save me,” Percy says. “I’m not-- I don’t need a knight in shining armor to come rescue me, I just need information. Tell me how to stay alive, and I’ll do it myself. That’s all I want from you.”

“Alright,” says Paige. “Well... You’ve been given a room. Yours is a little bigger than Courage and Honesty’s were, so I guess that’s a good sign. And you know what? Maybe I was a little hasty. You might make it through this, I don’t know. At least your form still looks relatively solid... I mean, I doubt it, I’m still pretty damn sure you’re going to die, but who knows! You might surprise me. It hasn’t happened before, I mean, it’s basically impossible to stick around without at least a fragment of your main trait to sustain you, but there’s no harm in trying, I guess.”

“What do you mean, without my main trait?” Percy says, and Paige looks at him with pity and sighs.

“You aren’t Pride anymore,” he says. “I’m sorry, man. That’s how I know you’re done for.”

“Just tell me what I have to do,” says Percy.

“Well... if you had known beforehand that Logic was planning to kill you, you could have come to me, and then I’d’ve been able to help you.”

“So what would you have told me to do?” Percy says.

“You’d need to find a room. You’ve got a room, right here. It’s a shitty room, but it’s a room, I guess.”

“Alright, what else?”

“You’d pick a function of Thomas’s brain to tether yourself to, so that Logic can’t just tear you apart anymore-- of course, he already got to you, very unfortunate--”

“It wasn’t Logic,” Percy snaps. “Just-- keep on explaining.”

“It wasn’t? But he’s so ruthless,” Paige says. “Analytical and arrogant, I can totally see it. ‘As the most important side, Pride should be my purview’ or whatever. Are you sure it wasn’t him? Maybe him disguising himself as someone you trust to get close enough to stab you in the back?”

Percy shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “It was definitely Roman. I would’ve known--”

“Roman did this to you?!” Paige exclaims. As he says it, his mouth expands to a ridiculous size, and Percy looks away, feeling sort of sick to his stomach.

“I guess he did,” he says.

“What the fuck did you do, man?” Paige says, and Percy’s stomach drops. Shit. That didn’t even occur to him. Maybe he did something to make Roman angry. Should he ask? Maybe Roman would give-- give Pride back, if he apologised and asked nicely.

“No, but it was weird,” Percy muses, brow furrowed as he thinks. “It was like I was being edited out. The pictures changed and my beanbag disappeared even though I didn’t unmanifest it. So did the nightlight Logic made us.”

Percy looks back over at Paige to see him sitting there with his lips parted. His mouth is a normal size for once.

“That’s... not normal,” Paige says. “What could have... Hm.”

“Yeah,” Percy says. “I specifically made the beanbag so it couldn’t be dispelled on accident, since that happened a couple times, I don’t know how it...”

“The only person I can think of who has that kind of power is Thomas,” Paige says. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would he edit you out?”

“I don’t know,” Percy says. “But this is beside the point anyway. Please tell me how to survive.”

“Okay,” Paige says. “So you choose a brain function. Don’t think of it like gaining a new trait, though, it’s more like getting a job. It’s a responsibility. Don’t choose something you aren’t willing to be in charge of for the rest of Thomas’s life.”

“No pressure,” Percy says.

“Right, no pressure,” says Paige. “Oh, and you should decorate your room. Make it a place you can be safe in, to recharge. If you’re still around in a couple of days, with enough energy to manifest things, then I’ll tell you about the rest of it. I have to go now, though, Thomas just bit his tongue. Bye!”

“Wait,” Percy says, but Pain is already sliding back into the vent, pulling the cover back on behind him.

Percy sighs, and takes stock of the situation. He’s alone. He’s going to die. His best friend killed him. Great.

Someone taps on the vent cover.

“Hello?”

“Heeey,” says the vent. “I’m coming in, so if you’re naked, don’t be.”

Percy opens his mouth to tell this person off, whoever they are (though their voice is strangely familiar) and then the vent cover falls to the floor again with a painfully loud noise. Percy winces.

But all his irritation drains away when Amber clambers out of the vent and dusts herself off.

Admittedly, she looks pretty different. Her hair is longer, for one, and she’s dressed quite differently, but she’s wearing the same shoes, and the same dangly cat earrings that Kitty made for her before disappearing.

“Amber?” Percy says. “Holy--”

“Ah--” Amber holds up a hand to stop him.

“You--”

“Shush--”

“I thought you--”

“Zip it!”

Percy crosses his arms and blinks at her, starting to get annoyed again.

“You ready to listen?”

He nods.

“Great!” Amber smiles brightly. It’s her get-to-work smile, her stop-wasting-time smile, but there’s something flat about it. “First of all, I don’t use that name anymore. I’m Hunger now, as you may have noticed I’m not dead, and Paige says you need instructions.”

“What happened to you?” Percy asks, and Amber-- Hunger’s smile drips off her face like blood.

“It was the Prince fucker,” Hunger says. “Your-- what was it again? Blood brother? Lol. Lol out loud.”

“Roman’s the reason you weren’t around anymore?”

“Sure is,” Hunger says, with a smile on her face that’s smug without being gloating. “I told you he was trouble--”

“Oh, right, so I was supposed to trust her majesty the jerk lady over Roman, okay--”

“Oh, so I take it Roman tried to save you from whoever did this to you but, through no fault of his own, failed? I wouldn’t have expected such violence from Morality. Fun, maybe, if he hadn’t sank long ago. Surprising that the Prince rode to your defence, though, don’t you think? I’d have expected him to back up Plutonium, or whatever Morality thinks is a nonthreatening name. Shame. I can only imagine what this’ll do to his reputation. I wonder if Roman will avenge you--”

“Roman did this,” Percy says. He means to sound light, casual, but his voice comes out twisted.

Hunger freezes.

“Holy pizza,” she says, very quietly. Percy snorts. “Percy\--”

“It was an accident,” Percy finds himself insisting. “He didn’t mean to do it, he wouldn’t hurt me... He cares about me. We’re-- we’re brothers. I’m certain it was a mistake. He’s going to come down here any second now and apologise--”

“Cream cheese on bagels, dude, you’re putting far too much faith in this Prince,” Hunger says. 

“Are you gonna keep doing the food-themed curse words, because--”

“Abso-frying-lutely. Deal with it.”

“I hate--”

“So Roman’s not going to apologise and he’s not your friend,” Hunger interrupts, and Percy puts his hands on his hips.

“Fuck you,” he says. “He cares about me. We’re a team.”

“Okay, fine,” Hunger says. “You’re a team. It was an accident. You’re still flipping dying.”

“I noticed,” Percy says.

“You realise he totally brewed me over, right?”

Percy stares at her blankly for a moment.

“Screwed? Brewed? No? Ugh, I give up, you’re right. The food cussing is dumb. Anyway, yeah, Roman fucked up my whole life and I can’t even yell at him for it. Deceit’s fault, the fucker. All she does is hoard power since Thomas never wants to lie, she never does anything with it but keep us down away from everyone. Fuck. I hate it! I thought-- I thought if I could just get her forced down here, she’d be too busy to keep Kitty from visiting, but now I’m down here instead and it’s all Roman’s fault. I mean-- Mem. Still getting used to that, it’s been like a week.”

“You’ve been missing for two months,” Percy says, instead of confronting the core of what she’s said. “Wait-- she? Deceit is a girl?”

“Not exactly, they’re just chill with any pronouns, especially for the purpose of distinguishing who you’re speaking of, since there’s so goddamn many men around here,” Hunger says. “But that’s irrelevant. The point is-- feel however the fuck you wanna feel about Roman, just don’t go telling me about it. Find someone else to listen to you defend him, alright?”

“Whatever,” Percy says. “Aren’t you supposed to be telling me how to stay alive?”

“Yes, of course,” Hunger says. “I’m Helga, by the way. I hope you’re right, and it was all a misunderstanding. But we should go see Memory, they’ll have a list of jobs you can try.”

“I-- Memory?”

“Kitty,” Helga says. “But don’t call it that, she’ll kill you. Well, not literally, but it won’t be pleasant.”

“Alright,” Percy says, looking down at his gloved hands. Everything is strange right now, but Percy figures it’s like walking in a blizzard. If you stop, you’ll freeze to death, so you have to keep walking until you stumble upon shelter. “Let’s go see Memory, then.”

* * *

The library is huge and disorderly. The books are all different colours and sizes and Percy doesn’t like it. He waits by the vent and shakes his head when Helga motions for him to follow her. He’d hate to get lost in this place, especially with how drafty and cold it is. He curls up by the vent, which is at least a little warmer, to wait. After almost five minutes in the cold, a gust of wind shoves a piece of paper into his hands and the vent cover slams open again. Helga comes out from between the stacks, looking harried.

“Did she give you the list?”

“Well, something did,” Percy says.

“Great, let’s go. Here, we can go to the diner.”

“Diner?” Percy asks, but Helga is already crawling back into the vents again. He follows.

“It’s a pretty shitty diner,” Helga says. “No one ever eats because Thomas gets literally nothing done ever. I’m not bitter or anything. I guess it’s good enough, considering Deceit set it up...”

“Oh,” Percy says. He can hear a muffled roar as they continue crawling, and then they turn a corner and the noise gets sharper.

And then Percy is climbing out into a brick-walled room full of people.

“Woah,” he says. “I didn’t know there were more--”

“Shut your pie-hole,” says one of the blue-shirted people. “If someone calls me a side one more time I’m going to lose it. I’m not a side dish! I’m the main event! The main event which Thomas has neglected to RSVP to and it’s almost too late, Helga, do something!”

“Ughh,” Helga says, putting her face in her hands.

“Oi, be quiet,” says another one to the first. “You’re not even a regular, why should she take shit from you? Hey, Helga, is my burger done?”

“Do Thomas’s teeth taste clean to you?” Helga snaps, and the second person zones out for a moment and then makes a face.

“Dammit.”

“Exactly! I’m not a regular! I’m a one time deal, this is Thomas’s only chance to--”

“Fuck you,” says the second one. “This diner is obviously too small for both of us--”

Percy looks at Helga, very unnerved, and she sighs, shoulders slumping.

“I guess this wasn’t the best place to sit down and figure out that list...”

“I want my pickle milkshake!”

“Oh my god, you’re disgusting, and so is the whole concept of a cotillon, why would Thomas even RSVP--”

“I don’t have any pickles!” Helga shouts, and things are quiet for all of three seconds before the chaos starts up again.

“You have vinegar and cucumbers, and frankly, I--”

“Oh my god, shut uuuuup!” says a familiar voice, and Percy turns to see Ennui clamber out of the vent.

Everyone turns to face him.

“I hate all of you,” Ennui says. “The entire concept of Tasks is flawed, you should never have been given forms--”

The uproar returns, ten times as unbearable as before, and Helga shoots a death glare at Ennui before shooing him and Percy back into the vent and shutting it behind them.

“Wow,” Ennui says. “It’s not like I said anything that wasn’t true.”

“Hi, Ennui,” Percy says.

“‘Sup, girl? I thought I felt a new room down here. Did one of them kidnap you?”

“I’m like, dying or something.”

“Cool,” Ennui says. “Where’s your room?”

“This way,” Percy says.

The grate clatters on the floor when Percy shoves it out of the wall, and he snaps, manifesting a carpet on the ground.

It’s weird, though. He was aiming for gold like Roman’s sash, but instead, it’s dark grey, like Roman’s shirt.

“So if you’re dying, what’s gonna happen with you and Worries?” Ennui asks.

“Shit,” Percy says. “I... I don’t think I can go back to the normal area, Ennui. Can you take him a message for me?”

“Sure,” says Ennui. “Not like I have anything better to do.”

“Thanks,” Percy says. “Tell him... Tell him I’m dying, and I want to see him. Please.”

“No prob,” Ennui says. “I’ll get that to him stat. Hey, look on the bright side, though.”

“What bright side?”

“No name squad!” Ennui says. “Y’know. Since you’re not Pride anymore? Percy doesn’t really fit a dead guy. Anyway, peace out.”

And the scene ends there, when Gale stopped being Percy and started being... nothing. The world blurs in front of his eyes and then dims to darkness as he finally falls out of the memory, and then-- he is not in his room. It is cold.

“Logan?” he calls out. The only response is a bleak echo. Gale heaves a sigh, and allows himself ten seconds to feel sorry for himself. He gets to six seconds and he’s already bored, so he stops doing that. Well, time to explore.

Gale slowly reaches out to his left, and extends his arm all the way to find nothing. He swings it slowly from side to side. Hm. Nothing near him on the left, or not at that height anyway. Speaking of which, he should probably just use his cane.

He snaps to summon it and sets about exploring.

Less than a minute later, Gale has located a structure, discovered it to be a bookshelf, and concluded he is in Memory’s library. It’s the only thing that makes sense, after all.

“Memory?” he calls out.

 _How did you get in here?_ he thinks to himself, as he waits for a response. _Hello? Sexuality? I’m talking to you. This is Memory._

Oh. Memory’s whole voice-that-sounds-like-your-thoughts thing gets him every time.

“Oh!” Gale says. “Hey, Memory. I had a weird flashback. Can you help me out?”

“Sure,” Memory says. “I’ll give you temporary teleportation permission, how’s that sound?”

“Awesome, thank you,” Gale says.

“Hey, uh-- Gale,” says Memory.

“Hm?”

“There’s something weird about you,” they say.

“Wow, great deduction,” Gale snarks.

“No, I mean-- the way you sank was weird. I’ve been looking through here for a few hours and it’s like something edited multiple books that used to have you in them. It can’t be Deceit, or I don’t think it is, because Deceit usually only hides things. It’d take a different kind of power than he has to edit my stories, and these books aren’t missing, they’re... different. I think Deceit was covering it up, making it so I didn’t notice the differences, but-- I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Paige and I pretty much have that figured out,” Gale says. “It was Thomas. No, we don’t know why he did it, and we also don’t know if he even knows he did it. Isn’t that just splendid?”

“That’s not the word I’d use,” Memory says. “More like horrifying. I’m going to have to audit everything now, just to make sure.”

Gale winces. He saw the library once before his eyes turned to glass, and it was huge. It’s probably even bigger now.

“Well, have fun with that,” he says.

“I will,” Memory assures him. “Are you ever going to make up with Roman?”

“Haha, fuck no,” Gale says. “He doesn’t even fucking remember anything from before, are you kidding? If he remembered, he’d--” the words catch in Gale’s throat. “He would apologise for leaving me, not for blinding me. I can’t make up with someone who has no idea why I’m really angry.”

“I’ll see about those memories,” Memory says, and Gale shakes his head.

“You don’t have to,” he says. “Really, it’s okay, I don’t need this to be more complicated--”

“I’m not offering,” Memory says. “I’m telling you it’s part of my job, so I’ll do it. I can’t just leave black construction paper taped over parts of a book someone didn’t like. I’m a librarian. I have to make sure everything is correct and readable. So, Gale, consider this a warning. I am going to see about those memories, and if I can fix them, I will do so, regardless of anything you and Roman have to say on the matter.”

“Jeez, I get it,” Gale says. “I’m gonna go now.”

“Goodbye,” Memory says. Gale snaps.

* * *

Back in his room, Logan has stood up in alarm.

“Heyy,” Gale says. Logan pushes his glasses up, hand shaking just a little, and Gale can feel his alarm.

“Hello,” Logan says. “What happened, just now? Where were you?”

“Ah, nothing really,” Gale says. “Just got casually kidnapped by Memory, it’s chill.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Fuck no,” Gale says. “I’m like, the opposite of okay. But I’m getting there.”

Logan nods.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says. “I hope you’ll make an appearance in the common area tomorrow? I believe Helga and Paige are planning to play video games, and Patton won’t stop talking about his plot to take over the world by baking fifteen thousand cookies.”

Gale snorts. Today was the first time he’s been around so many people at once since he lost Pride, and it was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. He liked it, though.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll show up, at least for a little bit.”

“I’m glad,” Logan says, and it feels like progress.

* * *

The next day, Gale is sitting on the couch feeling very, very awkward. Helga and Pain are playing Mario Kart-- he can hear the sounds-- and he is only there because Logan asked him to be.

“Hey, gay,” says Fun.

“Heya, Fuck,” says Gale.

“I forgot to ask you this,” Fun says. “Um. I organised a gift exchange, with the other deep sides and Virgil, except not including Sleep because he’s a party pooper, and I was wondering if you want to join?”

“Oh,” Gale says. “Sure, that sounds neat.”

“Okay,” Fun says. “I’ll tell the others you joined and figure out who you’ll be giving-- Oh-- hi, Apathy, did you need something?”

“Let me join,” Apathy says.

Gale hears the sound of Mario Kart being paused.

“But why, my guy?” Fun asks.

“I want to,” says Apathy.

“Me and him can exchange gifts so you won’t have to rearrange everyone else,” Gale suggests.

“I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it,” Fun says, and Gale nods.

He feels the couch shift.

“Christmas soon,” Apathy says, and-- it’s awkward. He didn’t talk to Apathy at all after he became Sexuality, but Apathy still--

“Why did you get Pride back for me?” Gale asks. “Paige, Helga, please go back to what you were doing.”

“Jeez, nothing slips by you, does it,” Paige grumbles. Mario Kart starts back up again.

“You... Pride wasn’t Roman’s. He shouldn’t have had it in the first place. Sides aren’t supposed to take pieces of each other, and he took the biggest trait you had--”

“You mean I had other traits?”

“Um-- well--”

“What are they?”

“You still have them too,” Apathy says. “You... you’re in charge of holding grudges and non-forgiveness. Like Lies’s self-preservation but more, um, honest. More open. You care more about yourself than you do about anyone else and you aren’t afraid to show it. It’s why you’re the most bearable one here.”

“Of course I have to prioritise myself,” Gale says. “Nobody else is going to.”

“Yeah,” Apathy says. “But without Pride you didn’t-- you couldn’t-- you were strange. Too flat. It hurt to look at you, being like that, and trying to be a whole person anyway. And Ideas-- or I guess I’ll call him Roman, for the sake of clarity-- Roman was... I couldn’t stand to look directly at him before. I had to take Ideas out of him just to make his being less chaotic so I’d be able to get to Pride too. I tried to take it out, but Ideas got in the way. So I took Ideas out, and he took Pride out himself.”

“So you can tell what traits everyone has?” Gale asks.

“Yeah, basically. Questions-- Memory can sort of tell, but they aren’t as good as me. It gets hard when there’s too many, though. Like Roman had four big ones before, and that’s just excessive. Nobody needs Bravery, Ideas, Dreams, _and_ Pride. It was too much. He wasn’t even using Pride! It was such a waste, it was hurting him! He had it on his ceiling and he was using it as a lightbulb, he didn’t even know what it was! He was just keeping you from having it and making it so you couldn’t share it with everyone, it was so scummy. I don’t care if he didn’t do it on purpose, it wasn’t okay. At least when I took-- um, when I took Ideas I knew what I was doing, and I had a reason for doing it!”

“By Dreams do you mean Ambition?” Helga interrupts, and Gale elbows her. She’s not supposed to be listening!

“Absolutely not, but for the purpose of your question, probably,” Apathy says.

“I thought _I_ still had most of that.”

“You have most of it,” Apathy says. “It broke in half when you sank. You _half_ the usable portion, the half that’s actually practical. Roman has the ones that aren’t like that. I’m pretty sure it was because if the ridiculous ones were shared with everybody, it’d be very bad.”

Helga ignores the pun.

“What else do I have?”

“Motivation,” Apathy says. “You’ve got Practical Ambition and Motivation. And you’re Hunger. Which is a very effective combination. You give out enough Ambition and Motivation for the upper sides to work until mealtime and then you make Thomas eat. It’s pretty awesome to see in action.”

“Ah, yeah,” Helga says. “That sounds about right. Sorry for testing you, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t, like, pranking us the way these fuckers do all the time.”

Gale isn’t sure which fuckers Helga means, but he’d guess she’s talking about Fuck and Paige.

“No, that makes sense,” Apathy says. “I don’t mind it.”

“Thanks, by the way,” Helga says. “I didn’t realise anyone even noticed I was doing all that.”

“It’d be hard not to notice,” Apathy protests, and Gale feels the cushions shift as Helga sighs.

“Maybe for you,” she says. “No one else has said anything, though. It’s whatever.”

“What’ve I got?” Pain asks.

“Fear and Pain,” Apathy says. “You’re mostly just Fear and Pain. Sorry. There might be something else, but I can’t see it well enough. It’s small.”

“That’s envy,” Paige says, like it isn’t a big deal. “It’s new. Well, new-ish. By new, I mean I got it when Thomas was five or so. He was too small to ride the big rollercoaster at the theme park, anyway.”

“Oh,” says Apathy. “Yeah, I can see that now.”

“What am I?” Fun asks, and Gale huffs, crossing his arms, interrupting before Fun can finish his rhyme.

“Okay, you guys need to promise me you’ll say goodbye when you leave a room and hello when you come in. And when I go into a room, say hi to me in the same order every time so you don’t talk over each other. I have to know who is in hearing range at any given moment, okay?”

“Sure,” says Helga.

“I’m not doing that,” Apathy says. “But I’ll say hi whenever I become visible.”

“Tell me what I am please, or I’ll give your room fleas,” Fun says.

“I don’t have a carpet or any fabric or anything in my room,” Apathy says. “Good luck. You’re Jokes. Jokes and Puns. Puns is newer. You’ve also got Fun and-- you’re a lot of things. You’re more things than there are colours in your shitty outfit. I don’t like you. You hurt my eyes.”

“Okay, but what else?” Fun asks, impatient.

“I don’t know!” Apathy exclaims. “Fuck. You--”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Fun says.

“You’re a pest,” Apathy says.

“What other traits? I’m in dire straits!”

“Ugh, fine. You’re... I gotta look closer.”

The couch cushions shift.

“Ow,” Apathy mutters. “Fuck, ow, make some sunglasses or I’m not doing it.”

“Only since you used my name,” Fun says. “Even if that’s not your aim.”

“Whatever. Um... fuck, that’s a lot of traits. One, two, three-- they keep shifting, this is gonna be hard. There’s the purple one, that’s-- why the fuck are you _Balance_?”

“Hell if I yeet,” Fun says. “I just think it’s neat.”

“Okay so Balance, and there’s an orange-- Puns, Puns is the orange one. Jokes is orange too. Silver... Uh... it’s like a happy silver skull and I have no idea--”

“Schadenfreude!” Pain declares.

“Uh, whatever,” Apathy says. “Beige... Where’d you get this little piece of Boredom? I thought Sleep and I had all of it.”

“It showed up one day and wouldn’t go away,” Fun says. “So now when Thomas is bored he can either sleep or joke. I think it’s better now, like ice cold coke.”

“Whatever,” Apathy says. “As long as you didn’t tear it out of anyone, it’s none of my business. Anyway, the rest of you is green and that’s Fun.”

“So am I bigger than Pain?” Fun says mischievously. “Since I have more... train?”

“We’re all about the same size now that Pride’s back in the right place,” Apathy says. “All your pieces are kind of little, it’s just all the different colours that hurt my eyes.”

“Aw,” Fun says.

“Who’s smallest?” Gale asks, and there’s an awkward moment of silence before Apathy says,

“Worries.”

“Why’s he so small?”

Who--

“Sleep!” Pain says. “Hey! Everyone grab some toilet paper, the pooper of the party has--”

“Shut up,” Sleep says, and Gale is forcefully reminded of him shouting the same words in Helga’s diner years ago. “Anyway, Apathy, why is Anxiety so much littler than everyone else? Hm?”

“I have no idea,” Apathy says, and Sleep makes a pleased sound.

“And I’m not dating the king of liars.”

“Stop playing games with me,” Apathy says. Gale feels the couch shift as he stands.

“Oh, what are you gonna do? Drown me? I’m fucking terrified,” Sleep says, sarcasm saturating his voice.

“I hate you,” Apathy says. “You-- I could have been--”

“I thought you didn’t mind,” Sleep interrupts venomously, and Gale is close enough to hear the last word of Apathy’s sentence: _happy_. “Besides, I _helped_ you. I made your plan work--”

“What plan?”

And that is Virgil’s voice, from the door.

“Nothing,” Sleep and Apathy say in unison.

“Bullshit,” Virgil says.

“Hey,” Gale says. “Virgil, I just remembered... Like, lowkey, but fuck you.”

“I-- what?”

“You know exactly what,” Gale says, outwardly calm. “I sent you a message saying I was dying and you still didn’t visit.”

A beat of silence.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Virgil says.

“Yeah, about that,” Sleep says. “I kinda sorta forgot, and then you didn’t die, so like... whatever, right?”

“Oh my god,” Gale says. “Virgil, I apologise. I should apparently be yelling at Ennui.”

Yeah, it’s rude to purposefully call someone their old name, but Sleep started it.

“You-- shut-- I hate you,” Sleep says. “I’m going.”

“Good riddance,” Apathy mutters.

“I heard that, but I’m still leaving!” Sleep says. “Be prepared for my revenge! Fucker!”

“Go chew a sharpie!” Apathy says. “Ugh, whatever. I don’t feel like being here anymore. Goodbye.”

“Don’t forget,” Fun says. “Gift to get!”

“I won’t,” Apathy says.

* * *

Four days later, it’s christmas, and Gale is sitting on the common room couch with a mug that says _world’s okayest hero_ on it for Apathy, because-- okay, maybe it’s a little bit sappy. But when he asked for Logan’s advice, he said that Apathy likes coffee, so a mug seemed appropriate, and Gale can’t just give him a blank mug. So therefore he had to write something on it. 

“Hey,” says Apathy, jolting Gale out of his thoughts.

“Hey,” Gale says. He holds the mug out in front of him, and Apathy takes it. “For you.”

“Oh,” Apathy says. “This is neat.”

“Glad you like it,” Gale says.

“Um-- I have your thing. It isn’t much. Just, um... hold your hands out.”

Gale holds out his hands, and holds his breath as something very light is placed into it.

“What is it?” he asks, feeling the thing. It’s made out of paper.

“A crane,” Apathy says. “If you pull its tail, its wings will flap.”

“Where’s-- what part is the tail?”

Gale gently feels the crane. Despite the delicate material, it’s pretty sturdy. The folds give it structure and strength.

“Right here,” Apathy says, and Gale rolls his eyes.

“Wow, that’s so helpful.”

Apathy sighs. Gale feels a slight breeze near his forehead and wonders exactly how close Apathy is standing. He feels along a folded edge of the paper, and then his finger brushes Apathy’s. Apathy pulls back like he’s touched the heating element of an oven instead of just Gale, and Gale bites his lip, wondering and worrying if he did something wrong somehow-- but Apathy takes a deep breath and then his touch is back, guiding Gale’s fingers to grasp the crane’s tail.

Gale lifts it by the tail and smiles.

“Is it cute?”

“I guess,” Apathy says. “I dunno. Um, to pull-- just hold it here--”

Gale hears Apathy suck in a shaky breath as he shows him where to pinch, and wonders if the touch hurts him.

“Now pull the tail.”

Gale tugs gently on the tail, and gasps as he feels two delicate paper wings brush against his fingers on either side.

“Oh,” he says. “That’s-- that’s beautiful. I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes! It’s so sweet and tiny! Thank you.”

“Oh,” says Apathy. “Okay. Um. Thank you too. I didn’t-- I thought-- I didn’t think you’d really give me anything, but I thought I should have something just in case.”

“Why didn’t you think I’d get you anything?”

“I dunno,” Apathy says. “I’m shrugging. Um. I just didn’t-- I hated you, like, for a long time.”

Gale frowns, still pulling the tail to make the crane’s wings flap as he listens.

“But you’re not really that bad,” Apathy continues. “I’m not sure why I hated you. It was probably stupid.”

“Holy shit,” Helga says. Gale didn’t realise she was listening. He jabs his elbow to the side, and she grunts.

“Like I was planning to say all these really mean things when you finally came out of your room and faced me, but like, why? Why would I _even_? It’s too much work. You’re not, like, some ugly wretched cowering thing, and you’re not a pathetic lump of a person. You’re literally just pretty. Like dew on flowers, or whatever. A waterfall on a sunny day.”

“Careful there,” Gale says. “You don’t want to give my poor little gay heart the wrong idea.”

Apathy doesn’t respond. Gale frowns, and says after a moment,

“Did he go?”

“I’m right here,” Apathy says. “Why is your hair white instead of clear?”

“Refraction,” Logan supplies, and goddammit, apparently everybody is listening in. Any other day, Gale would tell them off, but right now, he’s too focused on taking in everything Apathy has to say. “It’s--”

“Nevermind, it’s not important,” Apathy says. “Your eyelashes are white too. It’s pretty striking.”

“Oh,” Gale says.

“Before you got Pride back they were just white, but now the tips glow different colours. The colours change when you blink or shift. Same with your hair. Like fiber optics.”

“Hey, why didn’t anyone else bother to tell me this,” Gale asks.

“I didn’t even notice,” Memory says.

“Kinda makes a guy wonder how long he spends staring-- oof.” That’s Sleep’s voice. “Assault,” he says, somehow managing to sound bored and indignant at the same time. “Apathy assaulted me again. Lock him up, boys.”

“Shush,” Gale says. “What were you saying, Apathy?”

“My room is pretty dark,” Apathy says. “Dark and boring. I can tell you a secret, if-- do you want to know?”

Gale frowns, uncertain, reaching out to touch Helga’s elbow, and she puts her hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

“Sure,” Gale says.

“Come visit sometime,” Apathy says. “That’s all. I’m going now.”

“Bye,” Gale says.

“That was so weird,” Helga says once Apathy is gone. “What the fuck even _was_ that?”

Gale shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says, thinking about Apathy touching his hands as two paper wings flap, flap, flap. “I’m gonna... I’ll be in my room, if anyone needs me.”

He snaps.

* * *

Back in his room, Gale can feel exactly how intricate the crane is, and he spends almost five minutes just sitting on the floor flapping its wings and feeling how the paper moves. It’s amazing. He wonders where Apathy learned to make things like this.

After some consideration, he adds a small shelf to the wall above his bed and sets the crane down on it. It bothers him a little bit now, that he doesn’t know what colour it is. So maybe he’ll go see Apathy, just to find out. Maybe he’ll ask about his secret too, while he’s there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo there it is! :O
> 
> sure is weird how roman doesn't remember what he did to percy! and how apparently roman used to wear different colours! and how apathy-- what is apathy even doing, anyway?
> 
> these questions will be answered eventually. in the meantime, i will be thrilled if you yell your questions into the comment box. seriously though i've been itching to post that last scene since mid-november. i wrote apathy's lines about gale being pretty before i had even finished the scrabble scene in chapter 4.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2519 words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently it has been two months. time sure does fly.
> 
> shorter chapter. i'm shortening my target chapter length to 2k+ so that i don't have to do as much proofreading each time i post. this means i no longer know exactly how many chapters are left in this story, though i'd estimate i have about 10,000-20,000 words left to post after this. i'm still finishing some ending scenes. deceit and roman are particularly complicated :/ so is will's dad.
> 
> i'm no longer using song lyrics in my chapter titles. it's too hard. i have almost everything written, i just need to make it as easy as possible to post so that i don't just go "ugh" when i think about doing it lol. i got a bit overwhelmed.
> 
> warning in this chapter for Apathy, internalised homophobia, and brief violence.

Gale isn’t sure he wants to do this. He’s not sure what’ll happen, and he doesn’t know if he’ll regret it. It’s sort of scary. But he’s still doing it. Putting one foot in front of the other, cane sweeping side to side, on his way to Apathy’s room. He thinks he remembers where it was. Hopefully he won’t have to ask for help.

His cane hits a wall. Apathy’s door should be around here somewhere. Gale finds it and knocks.

The door creaks open.

“Oh,” says Apathy’s voice, and Gale smiles, relieved. “Well, come on in.”

Gale steps inside and loses his balance for a moment. Apathy’s room is disorienting.

“I’ll leave the door here,” Apathy says. “Usually I unmanifest it once I’m inside.”

Not one to beat around the bush, Gale decides to get right to the point.

“What was your secret?” he asks. “Are you about to come out?”

“Nothing to come out about,” Apathy says, and Gale rolls his eyes even though he knows no one can tell when he does that, since his eyes are clear. “No, my secret... my room is empty and I hate it.”

Gale frowns.

“Oh,” he says. “Why don’t you just--”

“Manifest furniture?” Apathy asks. “It doesn’t last. I go to sleep in a bed and wake up on the floor five minutes later when it disappears. I just can’t maintain anything I make for a substantial length of time. So I keep it empty because it’s not worth the effort. Would you like to sit for a short length of time and then fall on your ass?”

“Sure,” Gale says.

“That was a joke,” Apathy says. “I can’t make anything right now. I’m still too tired from what I did to Ideas.”

“Can I make a chair, then?” Gale asks, because he does want to sit.

“Feel free,” Apathy says. Gale snaps, and sits down.

“Do you want one?”

“Sure.”

He makes another chair.

“What do you do all day, Apathy?” Gale asks.

“Pretty much nothing,” Apathy says. “Usually I just dissociate, since it’s easier and all. And it can cause problems for everyone else if I’m aware 24/7, not to mention that would completely exhaust me. But since Deceit is... My point is that I’ve been more active recently. What do you do?”

“Think about men,” Gale says. “And how abs feel. Kissing dudes. Other stuff.”

Other stuff like the feeling of Apathy’s hands touching his.

“...Oh,” Apathy says. “I guess you’d know all about that stuff.”

“Not really,” Gale says. He sighs. “I haven’t even kissed anyone.”

“Woah,” Apathy says. “You-- but I thought you and Worries--”

“That only started being official a month before Roman absorbed Pride,” Gale says. “There wasn’t much time to do anything like that.”

“Oh,” says Apathy. He sounds like he’s thinking hard enough to rupture something. “So you-- you’ve never...”

“I’ve never kissed a man,” Gale says sadly. “What about you?”

He asks it as a joke, but as the seconds pass and Apathy remains silent, Gale starts to realise--

“Wait. You--”

“Ennui dared me to,” Apathy says shortly. “That’s the only reason I--”

“Who did you kiss?” Gale asks.

“Fuck,” Apathy says. His chair creaks. “Fuck, I--”

“You kissed Fun?”

“I kissed Virgil,” Apathy says. “Like, french kissed. With tongue. In his lap, and he grabbed my hair and-- I remember _every second_ , and I just--”

Gale blinks. His jaw drops.

“Apology,” Apathy says. “I mean-- do you want one? Am I supposed to say sorry for that? It was years after you stopped talking to each other, so I didn’t-- he agreed to do it, so--”

“Slow down,” Gale says. He massages his temples, trying to work out exactly what’s going on and why Apathy would even tell him this.

“Okay,” Apathy says.

“Earlier you told me my eyelashes were white,” Gale says, trying to buy time while he processes everything. “Why did you notice that?”

“I don’t know,” Apathy says. “I just noticed and wanted to say something. I’ve never seen anybody whose eyelashes were that light.”

And Gale gets an idea. Apathy is gay. He _knows_ Apathy is gay, because Thomas is gay. So why would he deny it?

“...You told me what traits I have in addition to Pride. Do you know what traits you represent besides Apathy?” Gale asks.

“Yeah, I’ve counted lots of times,” Apathy says. “And it’s not really Apathy. That’s part of it, but my core is Distraction, so that’s how-- I can fuck Creativity over in new and surprising ways sometimes. He can combat my surface very well, and then I’m just a bundle of red herrings who are really excited to try out their tricks.”

“Oh,” Gale says. “I wondered about that.”

“Ennui would have been a better upper side than me,” Apathy says. “But he _dared_ me, and then Worries kissed me like he meant it, so I shoved Ennui under. Ideas can’t get rid of me completely, but... He’d have been able to fight Ennui better than he can fight me. Sometimes I think I should have just been Sleep and let him stay up here.”

“Ennui couldn’t have weakened Feelings, though,” Gale says.

“If Humour stayed--”

“Fun likes being a deep side,” Gale interrupts. “You made your choices. You can’t undo them. So just quit regretting them, okay?”

“Ideas could undo his,” Apathy says.

“Roman has been weird for his entire existence,” Gale counters. “Um... If your main trait is Distraction, how did you get Apathy?”

Gale hears a sigh.

“It’s complicated,” Apathy says. “Apathy and I merged, and he was bigger, but I was louder, so I’m at the center of it while he’s... further out.”

“Like Pluto?” Gale asks.

“No,” Apathy says. “Like... the solar system isn’t a good analogy because the sun is so huge. It’s like I’m the conductor, and he’s the orchestra, except he’s also a napping four-year-old. Except I’m him, and he’s me, and we’re playing Pachelbel’s Canon on repeat, but only the cello part.”

“Oh,” Gale says, wishing he hadn’t asked. “Well, um... Anyway, you never gave me the full list of what traits you have.”

“Distraction, Apathy, Boredom... and whatever the other thing is, I don’t know what it’s called.”

“Interesting,” Gale says, manifesting tea and sipping it for emphasis before dispelling it again. “Tell me about this other thing.”

“It’s sharp,” Apathy says. He pauses. “I usually can’t find it. It’s hard to pinpoint physically, and even harder to manifest. Like I could make Ideas manifest solidly enough to take it out of Roman, but this thing is usually spread too thin to pull out. It’d be like trying to pick up a layer of paint before it dries.”

“What does it feel like?”

“It feels like I’m doing everything wrong,” Apathy snaps. “Like I’m fucked up at the core, like-- like-- wrong. It feels like I’m wrong.”

Gale crosses his legs. He gets the feeling Apathy isn’t done, so he waits.

“I... I don’t know when it got here. I can’t remember what it was like before I had it. But I think-- I think it must’ve gotten stronger when I kissed Worries. It hurt. Like my head was splitting open.”

Gale stands up. He isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t feel like he can sit right now.

“I want to try something,” he says. “Can I touch you?”

Apathy breathes in sharply, and starts... bouncing his leg, probably. That’s what it sounds like.

“Um. What... what for? What are you gonna do?”

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Gale says. “I want to test something. I want to hold your hand and see how long that takes to set it off.”

“No,” Apathy says. “I don’t-- I don’t touch people anymore.”

“Alright,” Gale says, sitting back down, already embarrassed about asking. “Why not?”

Apathy sighs.

“Because that sets it off,” he admits.

“You touched me before,” Gale says. “You touched my forehead. And I grabbed your wrist to stop you and you said I was warm.”

“And then you hugged me,” Apathy finishes.

“Sorry for not asking,” Gale says. “I was freaking out, and I didn’t take the time to think about anything I was doing, I just did it.”

Apathy sighs.

“It hurt,” he says. “I knew it would when I jumped off the cabinet--”

“Wait, sorry, when you _what_?”

“Oh, I was on top of the kitchen cabinets, and then I jumped down and went over to touch you.”

“So that’s what the sound was,” Gale says. “I thought you tripped. Why were you on the cabinets?”

“So no one could bump into me.”

“Why did you touch me if you knew what would happen?”

“I wanted to,” Apathy says. “I wasn’t thinking. I just... wanted to see if it would fix me. And it didn’t. So--”

“I want to start picking up that paint,” Gale says, and Apathy is silent for long enough that he worries he misremembered the analogy.

“There’s no point,” Apathy says. “You don’t even know what it is--”

“Internalised homophobia,” Gale says. He smiles mirthlessly. “There is absolutely a point. You can’t contain it as well as you think you can. If the rest of us face it slowly, we can probably get rid of most of it with enough time.”

“Inter-- what?”

“It’s something that happens to gay people,” Gale says. “When they feel like they’re doing something wrong even after they know it’s okay. When it feels like they’re fucked up at the core no matter how many times they have perfectly healthy gay relationships. When everything that goes wrong feels like it’s the universe’s revenge for them being the way they are. Thomas’s isn’t so bad anymore, or at least we thought it wasn’t.”

“I’m not gay,” Apathy says.

“What makes you so sure?” Gale asks, leaning forwards. “Stop thinking of yourself as someone who couldn’t possibly be gay. I know it hurts. I don’t know if I can help you face it. But you don’t have to live like this. It doesn’t have to hurt when you touch someone.”

“I can’t,” Apathy says. “I can’t be. I just can’t.”

“You can,” Gale insists. He doesn’t get why it’s so hard.

“Stop telling me what I am!” Apathy says, voice raw and rough but not much louder, and Gale crosses his arms, leaning back. “You-- you don’t know. You don’t _understand_. Because-- it’s okay.” Apathy’s voice is suddenly softer. “It’s okay. You aren’t supposed to understand, and it’s better if you don’t. That’s why I did this. I’m not going to give my problems to someone else. I picked them out myself and I’m keeping them. This was my choice. I won’t regret it.”

“Apathy--”

“This was nice,” Apathy says. “I liked the light. It was refreshing. Thank you for letting me use the chair. Don’t visit again.”

“I hid for almost a decade,” Gale says. “Don’t tell me I don’t understand shame.”

“Fine, I don’t understand _you_ ,” Apathy says. “You just came right out like it wasn’t weird. I don’t think you do understand shame. I really think you don’t get it. You don’t act like an ashamed person. You don’t act like it hurts!”

“It hurts,” Gale says coldly. He’s holding his cane too tight. It’s hurting his knuckles, and something inside him feels cold, like he always did before getting Pride back. “I’m scared. I’m ashamed. I’m doing it all anyway. The shame doesn’t go away when you start defying it. It just gets a little less powerful. It’s slow and it hurts and I just fucking started, so maybe you could consider that I’d rather not do this alone.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Gale says. He laughs, a little meanly. “I’m not actually doing this because I want to save you. I’m doing it because I’m selfish, like you said. I want to save myself and I don’t think I can do it alone. So there you go. It’s nothing fucking personal.”

“Oh.”

Gale snaps his fingers, standing just as the chairs disappear and dumping Apathy on his ass.

“But don’t worry. I won’t visit again.”

He turns and puts his hand on the doorknob, and Apathy snaps. The knob disappears.

He turns back towards Apathy, anger surging within him. He isn’t sure what to do with it. He isn’t sure what he _can_ do.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I panicked,” Apathy says. From the direction of his voice, Gale can tell he’s stood back up. He snaps again. “The door is back but _please_ wait. We can talk anywhere. It doesn’t have to be here. You-- you aren’t just trying to save me? Be a hero?”

“I’m not the heroic type,” Gale says. He walks forwards and reaches out, touching Apathy’s chest and then grabbing his shoulder instead. Apathy gasps, and flinches. “Stay still.”

“What--”

Gale lets go of his cane and clenches his hand into a fist, keeping his thumb outside of it like Bella Swan forgot to do in Eclipse. He punches Apathy in the face.

“Ow,” Apathy says. Gale hears him stumble backwards and fall a second time.

“I’m not gonna fucking save you,” Gale says. “I’m not a dumb angel who wants the best for everyone, or some sweet blind flower boy. I know I’m pretty and you think I’m like raindrops or something, but I’m not. I can’t wash away your mistakes and I can’t fix you. If you end up saved, it’ll be because you saved yourself. I’m not doing it for you.”

He snaps his fingers, manifesting gloves and putting them on, then holds his hand out to summon his cane.

“Good,” Apathy says. He’s laughing. “Same to you.”

Gale holds his breath like too much of a breeze will ruin the moment. Then Apathy stops laughing and takes a deep breath, and Gale walks over to hold out a hand to him. Apathy takes it, and Gale pulls him up.

“So when do we start?” Apathy asks, and Gale grins despite the pain in Apathy’s voice as he hurries to let go of Gale’s hand.

“Right now,” he says.

* * *

Apathy is... strange. Once he gets back to his own room, Gale ponders him for a few hours gay.

The weirdest part is that Apathy kissed Virgil. He french kissed Virgil. He _made out_ with Virgil in Virgil’s lap and Virgil’s hands were in his hair and he didn’t do anything with it. Virgil kissed Apathy like he meant it, and Apathy--

Apathy is alone. He and Virgil only kissed once. What Gale doesn’t understand is how it could have happened in the first place if Apathy had internalised homophobia the whole time.

Apathy is a very strange place for someone’s brain to put internalized homophobia anyway. Shame should go with fear, with pain, with anxiety. Shame should go with something that cares, not something that doesn’t-- though, if Thomas simply wanted to ignore it, it would make sense for a side whose main power is dissociation to take charge of it. Apathy implied he took it on purpose. Gale wonders how true that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully this didn't come too far out of left field! why does apathy have internalised homophobia, you may ask? well ive been dropping hints about the answer since that scene where pain and fun help fix roman so you might be able to figure it out if you reread all 50k words... lol that was a joke, even i can't reread this whole monster. but it's honestly not that big of a secret, im pretty sure i tell you guys in the next chapter.
> 
> (i've been building up to this scene since virgil admitted to kissing apathy in chapter three even though i hadn't written it back then).
> 
> next chapter... i was going to say saturday but i've realised today is friday. 
> 
> ...honestly? new chapter tomorrow. i like updating on saturdays. i will set a reminder on my phone to proofread it and polish the beginnings and ends of scenes. if you comment, i'll see it in my inbox tomorrow morning and immediately think about how much i love this story instead of having to battle my ADHD just to open the google doc... comments help me out a lot. please comment.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3058 words
> 
> “Stop playing games with me,” Apathy says. Gale feels the couch shift as he stands.
> 
> “Oh, what are you gonna do? Drown me? I’m fucking terrified,” Sleep says, sarcasm saturating his voice.
> 
> “I hate you,” Apathy says. “You-- I could have been--”
> 
> “I thought you didn’t mind,” Sleep interrupts venomously, and Gale is close enough to hear the last word of Apathy’s sentence: _happy_. “Besides, I _helped_ you. I made your plan work--”
> 
> “What plan?”
> 
> And that is Virgil’s voice, from the door.
> 
> (from ch. 6)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here i am posting today just like i said i would :3 if you didn't read yesterday's chapter you should go back and do that.
> 
> there's a weird flashback in this chapter where it starts off in the present and then goes back to explain what lead up to that moment and then continues in the present... just, the italics is what happened right before the first few sentences, and then when it stops being italicised, the story picks back up where the italics interrupted.

“Hold still.”

They’re in Gale’s room, and Apathy...

_“Are you sure it’s okay?” Apathy had asked. “I-- I don’t think I should be doing this. It’s-- makeup is for girls, and f-- gays. I shouldn’t even be here, I should go--”_

_“Shh,” Gale says, putting his finger to Apathy’s lips, not quite touching him. Apathy pulls back. Gale can visualise his expression perfectly from what he’s feeling (because he feels his room like Memory feels the books in its library). Apathy is frowning, but not too much, just enough to portray confusion. “Makeup is for anyone. Let me finish. Before they had good cameras, anyone who went on TV had to wear makeup so that their face would actually show up onscreen. That includes the presidential candidates during debates. Are you going to imply that Ronald Reagan was gay? Because he was not. He was the straightest, hettest, most horrible president this country has ever seen, except, perhaps, for Andrew Jackson.”_

_“But I--”_

_“‘Makeup is gay’ is not a reason to eschew it. ‘I don’t want to wear makeup’ is a valid reason. I’m not going to put it on you if you don’t want me to. But if you want to wear it, and you’re only hesitating because you think it’ll make you gay, I can tell you right now that’s bullshit.”_

_A long pause. Apathy is motionless except for his breath and heartbeat._

_“Okay,” he says. “I want-- yes. I just want to try it. See what it looks like. That’s all.”_

_“Alright,” Gale says, not questioning Apathy’s reasons, because if he has to lie to himself to feel comfortable with makeup, that’s his problem, not Gale’s. “So. What kind?”_

_Apathy blinks._

_“Um. Not lipstick. Something, um... I don’t know. You decide.”_

_Gale was always partial to winged eyeliner before he got Pride torn out of him and stuck back in._

_“Alright. Shut your eyes.”_

_Apathy sighs, shaky, and shuts his eyes._

_“I’m scared,” he says, so quiet that Gale wouldn’t have heard if they weren’t in his room, where he can feel Apathy’s lips move, where he knows when he should listen more closely._

_“It’ll be okay,” Gale says. “Hold still.”_

He uncaps the eyeliner and rests his hand on Apathy’s cheek to apply it. Apathy breathes in sharply, and feeling him wince is different than only knowing he’s doing so. Feeling him wince hurts.

So Gale rushes a little bit as he applies the eyeliner, and it feels so good to be good at things, even if he can only do this inside his room, even if he’s cheating by thinking of the eyeliner as a shape instead of a substance.

“There,” he says, very satisfied, as he pulls his hand away and Apathy’s shoulders relax.

Apathy opens his eyes and looks in the mirror.

He blinks a few times.

“I need a wipe,” he says. “I-- no. This is-- I need-- get it off, get it off, _Gale_ \--”

He wipes his eyes with his hands, and because of Gale’s cheating, it doesn’t smear.

Apathy is panicking. Gale can feel it. He snaps.

“It’s gone,” he says.

Apathy buries his face in his hands, and Gale feels uncomfortable because he can tell Apathy is crying even though he’s hiding. It feels like an invasion of privacy. He wishes he could turn off his perception of his room sometimes.

“Please,” he tries, but the word feels wrong in his mouth. “What’s-- I thought it was good. Did you like it?”

Apathy sobs.

“Yes,” he admits harshly, clenching one hand into a fist, digging his nails into his palm, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. “That’s the problem. Don’t-- don’t tell--”

“I know secrets,” Gale says. “I know how they work. If you don’t want me to tell anyone how hot I’m pretty sure you look in eyeliner, I won’t say a word about it.”

“Good,” Apathy says. He’s breathing a little more evenly now, but he still hasn’t calmed down.

“What do you look like?” Gale asks, because he’s been curious for a while, and he can tell Apathy is wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but he can’t tell the colours, and that’s the most important part.

“Like Thomas,” Apathy says.

“Well, duh, I know that,” Gale says. “I mean-- y’know how Logic has his tie, and Virgil--”

“No, I mean I look like Thomas,” Apathy interrupts. “I always just look like Thomas. Same clothes, same whatever. I don’t have any distinguishing features at all.”

“Oh,” Gale says. “Why not? Not that there’s anything wrong with--”

“I can’t manifest things properly, remember? And-- there _is_ something wrong with it. There’s something wrong with _me_. Because I don’t care enough. About anything. So whatever I manifest disappears, because my feelings are just-- y’know. Not as strong as any of the real sides.”

Oh. For some reason that hurts, right in Gale’s heart, where Pride is. He doesn’t like it, but he isn’t sure how to make it stop.

“If you want... I can make something for you. Something to wear, so you can look different.”

Apathy shakes his head.

“No, you-- you’d have to maintain it, it’s--”

“I’m a deep side,” Gale reminds him. “I have more energy than I know what to do with. Manifesting things is like, really easy. Maintaining them is easier. So just-- if you want, like, glasses, or whatever--”

Apathy snorts.

“Glasses? No way. I mean... I don’t know. I... I used to think all the time about, um, what I’d wear if I got to choose, if it wasn’t just... whatever Thomas put on every day... but. I stopped.”

“And?”

Apathy wraps his arms around himself and smiles a small smile-- Gale wishes with his entire heart that he could see it.

“Thomas-- he had this one shirt-- I made him wear it as often as possible. I don’t know why I liked it. He was in a store one day and I saw it and it reminded me of-- I don’t know. It had a dark blue background with big light blue dots scattered around it, and some red parts...”

Gale bites his lip.

“I can’t do colours,” he blurts out. “I-- not anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Apathy says. “It’s okay. Um... Maybe just... A bandanna would be nice.”

“Sure,” Gale says. “Do you want that in grey, grey, or grey?”

Apathy chuckles, then opens his mouth to speak.

“That was a joke,” Gale says. “I can actually do black and white as well.”

“White, then,” Apathy says.

Gale makes it, and Apathy folds it in half and ties it around his neck.

“I feel like a one-off vine character,” he says. “Where’s my chest label?”

Gale snaps again, delighted, because labels are usually black and white, and Apathy looks down and bursts out laughing. Gale is completely caught off guard.

Apathy isn’t scary when he’s angry, but Apathy _laughing_ is like a weapon, like poison poured straight down his throat, and Gale can’t remember the last time he was this scared of someone, because Apathy laughing is beautiful and Gale would rather die than depend on anyone ever again.

“Even if I had a name, it wouldn’t be Chad,” Apathy says. “How do you...”

He snaps, and the label disappears.

“If you can get one of the others to make some multicoloured embroidery floss, we can make friendship bracelets,” Gale suggests, and Apathy rears back like Gale just kicked him in the shins. “What?”

“Don’t girls make those? Like, at sleepovers?”

Gale shrugs.

“I wouldn’t know,” he says. “I just thought... y’know. Since you wanted...” he trails off.

“I’d rather die than be seen wearing a friendship bracelet,” Apathy says firmly, and Gale bites his lip and tries to think of a way to change the subject so Apathy won’t see how offended he is.

“Hey,” he says. “When you do manifest things, is there a difference in how long they last depending on size?”

“Well, yeah,” Apathy says. “Bigger things are harder to maintain.”

“So you could practice,” Gale suggests.

“But even really small things disappear within a half hour,” Apathy says.

“How small have you gone?”

Apathy thinks for a moment.

“I think... a mug. And I can, um... when I manifest energy, that’s a lot easier.”

Gale’s jaw drops. He’s pretty sure manifesting energy is impossible.

“You-- you can-- how?”

Apathy shrugs.

“I just sort of... pull it out of myself, and make it be solid... Or, well, liquid, I guess. The same thing you do with everything else, where you take the idea of it out of yourself and make it be real, you know? I just can’t keep ideas out for very long.”

Gale blinks.

“Is that how you manifest things?”

“...Yeah? Am I doing it wrong?”

“Just a bit, yeah,” Gale says. “You shouldn’t be-- I have no idea what you’re talking about when you say _take it out of myself_.”

“Well, what do you do?” Apathy asks.

“Hm. It’s hard to describe. I just... I snap, and I build the thing where I want it to be.”

Apathy furrows his brow.

“So you don’t, like, take it out and make it be solid? How do you get it to be perfect then?”

“Practice,” Gale says.

“Is that how you made two chairs?”

“Yup.”

“Wow. _Wow_. Lemme try that.”

Apathy shuts his eyes.

“Go ahead,” Gale says.

Apathy snaps.

Nothing happens.

“It didn’t work,” he says. He sounds weary, all of a sudden. Discouraged. “I... I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy, but... I wanted it to be.”

“It’s okay,” Gale says. “In the meantime, try hair. Like, make yours just a little longer. Just a tiny bit at first. If this is something you’ll get better at with practice, that’s probably a good way to start.”

Apathy sighs.

“Yeah. That’s a good idea, Gale. Thanks.”

“Do... do you want me to make you anything else?”

“A sweater,” Apathy says. “Grey, and a little oversized.”

Gale snaps.

* * *

Gale probably likes the sweater way too much. He likes reaching for Apathy whenever he can feel him near and he likes when he finds him and feels the sweater.

Because he can feel Apathy. He just sort of _knows_ when he’s around, because there’s a strange, dead aura around him. It takes him a few days to do it consistently, but eventually he always knows what direction Apathy is in, and roughly how far. He likes it.

He especially likes when Apathy gives up on going unnoticed by him and begins staying near him whenever he’s snooping around the others. It’s... good, to have a support other than Helga. Gale always felt a little guilty about making her guide him around anyway.

Apathy starts warning him moments before he trips, but only after it’s too late to avoid tripping. But the joke’s on him-- Gale notices that, just a moment before Apathy speaks up, he feels less... well, apathetic. Which is often enough warning to take Apathy down with him.

After the first few shared falls, Apathy begins to warn him soon enough that he can actually do something about it, which is perfect, since Apathy is undetectable to any of the others most of the time. So it’s like Gale has secret sight powers.

He doesn’t. He’s just very patiently trained his invisible friend to keep him from bumping into things.

“You’re like my own personal guide dog,” he says to Apathy one day, just outside the kitchen, and Apathy kicks him in the shin.

Gale exaggerates his stumble and turns it into a full-on collapse directly onto Apathy.

“Ow,” Apathy says. “You just-- you just touch me whenever you want, don’t you, is that all you can do? Be gay and annoying and touch me all the time? Is that your job?”

“Yes,” Gale informs him.

_Who are you talking to?_

What-- oh, Memory.

“Apathy,” Gale says, and Apathy breathes in sharply.

“Why did you do that,” he mutters. “I didn’t want them to see me.”

“When did Thomas get a new sweater?” Virgil asks, and Apathy sighs.

“He didn’t,” he says. He stands. Gale hears him dust himself off, and reaches up for the hand Apathy usually holds out when they fall.

It isn’t there.

Oh. So _that’s_ how it’s going to be.

“Everyone turn around so _Theo_ can help me up without getting embarrassed,” Gale says.

“Oh my god,” Apathy says. “That’s-- what did you just call me?”

“It’s called a nickname, Apatheodore,” says Gale. “Help me up, or I’ll never call you anything else again.”

Apathy helps him up, and Gale didn’t _need_ the help, he just... it didn’t feel good to know Apathy was embarrassed about him. That’s all.

“So you’ve finally decided to actually do something with your appearance, then?” Paige asks, sounding like a shark going for the kill.

“Could you please shut your mouth?” Apathy says. “You-- whatever. I didn’t ask you to acknowledge my existence. None of you fuckers deserve to see me.”

“You got that right,” Virgil mutters.

“Don’t be rude,” Logan says. “Hello, Apathy. I like your sweater.”

“Thank you, Reasons,” Apathy says stiffly.

“Okay, who’s in the room right now?” Gale asks.

It’s Apathy who answers.

“Worries, Reasons, Pain, Memory, Hunger, and Fuck. Whose name I’m using because calling him Fun wouldn’t be accurate enough with the fuckload of other traits he’s got.”

“Thanks,” Gale says.

“Have you been helping Gale?” Helga asks. She isn’t looking in their direction. Gale notices vague Mario Kart noises from the TV. He can practically feel the discomfort radiating off of Apathy at the question.

“No,” Gale says, because he likes being mysterious and he can tell Apathy also wants to deny it. “He just hangs around and gives me wrong directions sometimes. It’s kind of hilarious.”

“I’ll help you kick him in the shins,” Fun says, not looking at Gale. “Right after this race when Helga wins.”

“Damn right I’m gonna win,” Helga says.

“That’s not going to be necessary,” Gale says. “It’s not like he’s tripping me or trying to steal my cane.”

“It’s still _rude_ ,” Fun insists. “He’s a rude dude.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, Fuck,” Gale says, much more firmly this time, and it’s a moment before Fun answers.

“Kay, gay,” he says. “Just wanted to kick someone. Losing every race is a little less fun.”

“Violence is not the answer, dear,” says Pain, and Gale hears Fun scoff.

“So, Fapathy,” Virgil says, and Apathy heaves a sigh. “I have a question.”

“Sure thing, Furries,” Apathy says, and Gale snorts.

“Is it lonely in your room with no one to visit you, or do you ‘not mind’ that, either?”

“What,” Gale says.

“It’s lonely by some standards, I guess,” Apathy says coolly. “But I don’t mind.”

Gale hears the sound of someone hopping off a bar stool, and then a slight scuffle as Logan says,

“Virgil--”

“Apathy,” Gale interrupts, tired of this useless conflict, because honestly? He knows Virgil and Apathy could get along, if they really tried. “Would you care to tell these wonderful people all about the very brave thing you did for them, years and years and years ago?”

Mario Kart gets paused, and everyone is silent. Gale feels very watched.

“Gross, it wasn’t for them,” Apathy says. “Also, shut up. You said you understood secrets.”

“I’m not going to tell,” Gale says. “I was just wondering if you were going to.”

“Well, I’m not,” Apathy says.

* * *

“Who was it for?” Gale asks later, back in his room.

“Who was what for?”

“When you took internalised homophobia.”

“Not them,” Apathy says stubbornly.

Gale waits.

“Thomas,” Apathy says. “It was for Thomas.”

“I figured,” Gale says. “How... how did you take it?”

Apathy doesn’t respond for a while, and Gale waits again.

“Virgil had it before,” he says. “I don’t know when it got here, though. Or I don’t remember. But he had it. And I just sort of... I could tell it would be bad if he kept it, because it was just getting worse and worse and worse. So I took it. I didn’t know what it was, I could just tell it was starting to affect Thomas. So like-- it’s my job. I’m supposed to make him not care about things that would be unhealthy to care about. But then I have to care about them.”

“Oh,” Gale says.

“It was easy to take out of Virgil once I kissed him,” Apathy says, voice a thin, wavery whisper. “I tried for months beforehand and couldn’t get any of it away from him, it had him gripped so tight. But when I kissed him it all clustered together right by his heart-- I could feel it-- so I took it. And that was when he grabbed my hair. And it hurt. But I didn’t mind.”

“Please,” Gale says. “I want to hug you. Can I hug you?”

“You’re asking,” Apathy says.

Gale nods.

“Then I’m going to have to say no.”

“Okay,” Gale says. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?”

“I’ll stop touching you. I thought you were just being dramatic. I don’t know. But I’ll quit.”

Apathy sighs. He almost sounds sad.

“Okay,” he says. “So. That’s why I’m like this. And that’s why I’m gonna stay like this. You should stop trying to change me. It’s not going to work. You’ll just be sad.”

“I’m not trying to change you,” Gale says. “I’m just... I’m trying to get better. And I’m sort of trying to show you that you can change yourself.”

“I can’t,” Apathy says. “Or I could, but I won’t. It would be bad for Thomas if I didn’t care about this. Because then he’d have to. And he doesn’t want to. I don’t want him to. I don’t actually want anyone else to be ashamed. Except I also think you guys should be. And I think he should be. It’s very complicated and confusing.”

“I can put stuff in your room,” Gale says. It’s the only thing he can offer that might actually help.

He wants to help Apathy now. It’s weird. He cares now.

He’s decided.

He’s going to save Apathy.

Not to be a hero. Not for the glory of it all.

He’s going to save Apathy because-- well, _somebody_ has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: it's saturday night april 6th. i just had a concert and i'm very tired, and i didn't end up working on the next chapter at all last week for various uninteresting reasons. so i'll try for tomorrow or next saturday (but prolly not tomorrow cus i have tons of stuff to go to)
> 
> i'm gonna try and have the next chapter done by next saturday. so, in a week. please comment uwu
> 
> also the beginning scene with apathy was inspired by uhh so i was at a party my sophomore year of highschool and a good friend of mine wanted to try eyeliner so my friend put it on him. and i wanted to see, cus we had talked several times about how hed look good in eyeliner, but he looked in the mirror and then wiped it off before anyone else could see and refused to ever speak about it again. its... when youre a writer, and something makes an impression on you, it might be years before you inadvertantly write the perfect situation to put it in, but then once you do, you suddenly remember.
> 
> and i hadnt thought about it in years before i had an OC who was struggling with his sexuality and another OC who was good at makeup, but... suddenly i remembered, and... it's like. it still hurts that he was so scared to just try makeup that he couldnt do it until he was at someone else's house, and then when he tried it, he got even more scared. it makes me mad at his parents. i have lots of other bigger reasons to be mad at his parents but like,, seriously. UGH.
> 
> (apathy isn't based on him, it was just the idea of a scene with removing eyeliner right after putting it on that i used for this. the real life event went down a little differently.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3870 words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh... hi. it's been a while, hasn't it. thank you guys so much for waiting! <3
> 
> i hope you like this chapter :D

It’s New Years Eve before Gale gets around to manifesting furniture for Apathy. They’re hanging out in Gale’s room again, because Gale is more comfortable there, and he’s never considered it much of a reflection of himself even though it’s the only thing that allowed him to stick around when he sank.

(If he had wanted it to reflect himself, he would have made it look like Roman’s room. He would have had a beanbag chair and an elephant statue big enough to sit on. What he needed back then, though, was not a home, but just... somewhere to exist, somewhere to recover. So he’s not really that attached to his room, no matter how comfortable it is to hide out in here for hours on end. Gale wonders why it seemed like such a good idea to leave it in the first place, and then shakes that off; he hasn’t felt that way since Deceit passed out, and he’s not about to start giving into it again now.)

Apathy wants a low bed because he’s never slept in a bed before, so he rolls around a lot.

“Actually, just make it a mattress on the floor,” he says, fiddling with something in his pocket. It’s a set of keys, and Gale wonders where he got it. “As low as possible.”

“No problem,” Gale says, carving “mattress” into a thin layer of clay on a clipboard with a stylus; he can read writing on paper in his room, but it’s very difficult because of how small the difference in thickness is between the ink and the paper, so this way is easier. “What else?”

Apathy is silent for a moment, just thinking.

“A table would be cool,” he says. “Can you make glass? Like, clear things?”

“I haven’t tried,” Gale says, a little surprised. He offered Apathy glasses a few days ago and now he’s not even sure he-- wait, yes, he can make clear things. He made a mirror for Logan to use. “Wait, yes I can. Why do you ask?”

“Can I have a glass table?”

“Sure,” Gale says, marking that down too. “Anything else?”

“Um, no,” Apathy says. “That’s enough.”

“Alright,” Gale says, even though he suspects Apathy will ask him for more in a few days. This is just... testing the waters, to make sure Gale is serious when he says he doesn’t mind. “What’s that in your pocket?”

“Keys,” Apathy says. “I get the stuff in Thomas’s pockets too.”

* * *

(Later, in Apathy's room, after Gale has set up the table and mattress).

“It’s gotten better.”

Gale hears the creak of the mattress as Apathy sits down next to him. He keeps his expression the same, and hides his surprise.

“What has?”

“When you touch me,” he explains. “It... doesn’t hurt much anymore, if it isn’t-- um-- the hugs still hurt. And when you touch my face. But just my hands... is okay. If... If you _gotta_ touch me, then... it won’t hurt. Same with my forearms, really.”

“Are you okay with me touching your hands?”

Apathy sighs, and lets the silence stretch out for a while.

“I think... I can’t say that,” he says. “I think if I say that, it’ll hurt again.”

The sound of Apathy breathing seems very loud in the empty space.

“...Do you _want_ me to--”

Apathy heaves a sigh and leans enough to make the mattress creak again.

“I-- Gale, I _cannot_ say. This is as much as you’re getting.”

“Would you tell me if you didn’t want me to?”

“Yeah,” Apathy says. “I would tell you.”

“Great,” Gale says, reaching out-- fuck. That was Apathy’s face. “Shoot, I’m sorry.”

“It’s-- sheesh, that stings. I’m okay. Just... gimme a second.”

Gale waits, feeling tense but comfortable, like something is about to happen that will knock him flat.

“Ok,” Apathy says. He touches Gale’s hand and then pulls back, breathing in sharply, and Gale hesitates.

“Did it--”

“It hurts when I do it, but I think-- it should be fine if, if-- you know?”

Gale wonders if it’s because, when Gale touches him, Apathy can pretend he doesn’t want it. He takes Apathy’s hand, and there’s no pained sound, no gasp, just Apathy’s hand relaxing in his and then slowly, slowly closing around his. Apathy twitches, and then, with a sound like he’s bracing himself, laces his fingers with Gale’s. Gale feels his heart flutter.

“Thank you,” Apathy says. “For the, um, the furniture. I really appreciate it.”

And Gale isn’t sure, but... he feels like Apathy is thanking him for more than that. He nods.

“I’m glad I could help,” he says. “Listen, you know-- I’m not like Patton, yeah? Or I’m not like Patton wants to be, I don’t want to be someone who helps everyone, that’d kill me. But-- I help the people I like, and I do like you.”

Apathy’s hand pulls out of his, and Gale’s face falls before he can stop it.

“Not like-- not, you know, not in a gay way, I just-- I like hanging out.”

 _Liar_. Gale shivers. He’s not lying, is he? Maybe he is. Maybe... maybe he does like Apathy in that way. If he does, it’s small, less important than the rest of his feelings about Apathy. Less important than the worry.

“Oh,” Apathy says, sounding relieved and something else at the same time. His hand carefully finds Gale’s again, but he doesn’t lace their fingers together this time. It’s okay. Gale knows how to wait, and he knows how to take things slow.

“Is this all you want?”

Apathy takes a moment to respond.

“Oh, the furniture. Yes, thank you very much. I appreciate you doing this for me, Gale.”

“It’s really no problem,” Gale says. “Do you want to head back to my room?”

Apathy’s hand moves just a little like he’s shrugging, and he says,

“Sure, why not.”

* * *

Apathy would look good sitting on Gale’s bed, if Gale could see. He’s certain of it. They’re back in his room, and Apathy is sitting on the edge of Gale’s bed while Gale lounges against the wall (he knows from experience that sitting too close to Apathy on a bed will make him freak out).

But then Apathy pats the bed, frowning in a way Gale can’t decipher, and says,

“Don’t you want to sit?”

Gale swallows.

“Sure,” he says, keeping it casual as he pushes off the wall and strolls over to his bed. He doesn’t sit right next to Apathy, just tosses himself onto the bed and lands on his back, but Apathy tenses anyway and it makes Gale sad. _Someday_ , he tells himself. _Someday you’ll do this and he won’t flinch_. “What colour was the crane?”

Apathy opens his mouth and hesitates.

“Silver,” he mumbles. “I just like silver, so...”

“Cool,” Gale says. “How shiny?”

“Pretty shiny,” Apathy says. “I asked Logan to make the paper for me, but I think he ended up getting it from Memory since she pays more attention to what books or origami paper are made of than he does.”

“I like it,” Gale announces, and Apathy’s face begins to morph into something that Gale would bet is going to be a smile, but--

There’s a knock at the grate. Apathy’s face shuts off, and then it’s blank.

“Hello?” Gale calls.

“Hey,” comes Virgil’s voice. “It’s me.”

“Shit, I’m leaving,” Apathy says. “Bye.”

Gale rolls his eyes as Apathy sinks out, and snaps to open the grate for Virgil.

“Hey, Virge. What’s up?”

“Ugh,” Virgil says. “Was that Apathy?”

“It was,” Gale says.

“Gross.” Virgil gets up and snaps his fingers, manifesting a beanbag chair, and it takes Gale a moment to figure out what it is, because he’s never felt one in his room before. “I don’t like you hanging out with him.”

“Right,” Gale says, unimpressed. “Well, I’m sure you’ll understand if I ignore your opinion on the matter--”

“No, like... I can’t help but worry something’s going to happen,” Virgil says. “You know?”

“No.”

Virgil sighs.

“He did something to me,” he mutters, and his posture and facial expression both say that this is hard for him to tell somebody else. “He did something to me and made it so I can’t-- I’ve learned so many coping mechanisms, breathing exercises, everything, but none of them work if Apathy’s involved. I don’t like him spending so much time alone with you.”

Gale sits up on his bed.

“You’re worried,” he says.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be careful. I’m being careful. I...” Gale shuts his eyes and mulls it over, trying to decide how much he should say about this. “Apathy has told me what he did to you.”

Virgil tenses.

“Okay, and?”

“He made me promise not to tell anyone.”

Virgil opens his mouth and then shuts it, crossing his arms and biting his lip as he frowns worriedly at his shoes. Gale swallows, because he knows how it must sound when he says, _I know what Apathy did to you but he made me promise I’d keep his secret_. 

“Virgil... I don’t think the part you’re feeling was on purpose.”

Virgil looks up at him and stubbornly says,

“Well, it still fucking happened, so.”

“But he didn’t mean--”

“And he kidnapped Logan a few weeks ago, I just... I hate him. And Gale, you know me, you know I don’t even like Roman, but Patton says Roman was seriously screwed up by whatever Apathy did to him and it freaks me out that-- Gale, he could rip you apart just like he did to Roman, he could take Pride back out of you--”

Gale flinches, and Virgil stops.

“Please do not speak to me of Roman,” Gale says, aware that his chest feels overheated and that Virgil is squinting like he wants to cover his eyes. “I-- Virgil. Do _not_.”

He’s breathing too quickly, and his heart is beating so fast it hurts.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if--”

“Apathy isn’t going to hurt me,” Gale says. “Not unless Thomas Orders him to.”

“But Per-- Gale, we don’t even know him. I hate it, I hate not knowing what motivates him. Nothing he does makes any sense.”

“He does the things he does for Thomas’s sake,” Gale says. “He took Pride away from Roman because I was supposed to have it, and he--”

“He fucking kidnapped Logan and they were just sitting there drinking coffee like it was _okay_ ,” Virgil says, and Gale frowns. Coffee. Hm. “He has way too much power, it’s not okay, it’s terrifying. How can’t you see this?”

“I’m blind,” Gale says dryly, intending it as a joke to break the tension, but Virgil grimaces.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, and Gale frowns, irritated (perhaps illogically) that he didn’t laugh. “I didn’t mean--”

“Whatever,” Gale says. “Anyway, did you know Apathy can manifest energy?”

Virgil’s head tilts to the side.

“What do you mean?”

“He told me,” Gale says. “He can take energy out of himself and make it be liquid. And wasn’t the entire problem that Logan didn’t have enough energy?”

“I guess,” Virgil says, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you saying the coffee was... like, real coffee?”

“I don’t know,” Gale says. “I just know what he told me. He doesn’t like it when people know he helped, so if he did help, he wouldn’t admit it.”

“ _Why_ , though?” Virgil says, frustration giving his voice more depth. “I spent ages convincing the Light sides I was going to help them, and he just doesn’t even try and you like him? How is _that_ fair?”

Gale doesn’t answer, because it’s _not_ fair. He likes Apathy for selfish reasons, because Apathy doesn’t have a problem with him, and Apathy helped him. He likes Apathy because he has no reason to hate him.

“I just... Even if he was trying to help, he shouldn’t have kidnapped Logan. That wasn’t okay. I was so-- so scared.”

Virgil’s voice breaks.

“Aren’t he and Logan friends now, though?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “I... I don’t like that, either.”

“Well, you don’t get to decide who people are friends with, Virgil,” Gale says. “If Logan can forgive him, maybe you should too.”

Virgil fidgets with his hoodie sleeves for a moment, and then looks up at Gale, expression closed off.

“I’m not even going to try to point out how hypocritical you’re being right now, it doesn’t even matter and that’s not what I came here to talk about,” he says. “Logan kissed me.”

“Woah,” Gale says. “Congratulations.”

Virgil grimaces.

“Right,” he says. “Except he apologised afterwards.”

“Oh.”

“And said he wasn’t planning to kiss me, and he needed to think about it even though he wanted to do it again. And Roman says--”

Virgil cuts himself off, and Gale furrows his brow, trying to parse what he’s said.

Virgil went to Roman first. Gale was his second choice.

“I just wish I could talk to Logan about it,” Virgil says. “But he wanted time to think, so I don’t know what to do. And I thought maybe you could help me, but you aren’t even listening--”

“Am I not listening?” Gale says. “Or am I just not hearing anything you don’t say with your mouth, you know, out loud?”

Virgil sighs, shifting on the beanbag.

“Okay,” he says. “Direct communication isn’t my forte, but I’ll try. I guess.”

“I already know that,” Gale says. “It’s weird how you and Logan get along so well, since he’s freakishly direct and you’re a mess.”

“Thanks,” Virgil says. Gale rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like--”

“No, it’s true,” Virgil says. “But so is he. We both are.”

“We all are,” Gale says, thinking of Apathy’s trouble with physical contact and his own inability to think of Roman without getting panicky. Virgil chuckles.

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

Virgil doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and Gale waits, because he has plenty to think about himself while he lets Virgil sort his thoughts out.

Like Roman. Gale has so many reasons to hate Roman. There’s the way he acts, like he did nothing wrong. There’s the way he talks. There’s the way that he apparently does makeup now. Gale wonders what else Roman stole from him and called ‘himself’, if the hole in his personality now sits within Roman, assimilated.

Anything but the red would probably be fine. Sure, Gale can’t perceive colours anymore, but red was always his colour and if Roman took it-- oh, that would be unforgivable.

Eventually Virgil sighs, and says,

“Apathy scares me. He... really hurt me. You weren’t there, then. You didn’t see the way he acted... I thought-- I was certain he actually liked me, he made it seem so real.”

Virgil stops, and Gale doesn’t know what to say to him. If he’s honest with himself, he really doesn’t know what to think anymore.

“He was so... attentive. Good at making me feel listened to, and-- he would remember things I mentioned and bring them up later, like... like if I said I was obsessed with a certain song he’d ask a few weeks later if I was still listening to it on repeat.”

“That’s sweet,” Gale says, and Virgil snorts.

“Right. Sweet, okay.”

“Well, it is,” Gale says.

“Stop,” Virgil says. “I don’t-- he’s not-- Gale, listen. He doesn’t actually care about you, or anyone, you know? He’s Apathy, he _can’t_ care about anyone.”

“That’s not actually true,” Gale says, and Virgil crosses his arms.

“I know you don’t want to believe--”

“No, I mean you’re wrong,” Gale insists. “I’m just saying.”

“Whatever,” Virgil says.

“You think you know him?” Gale asks, because he really does wonder what authority Virgil thinks he has on the subject.

“Absolutely not,” Virgil says. “Are you kidding? I don’t think anyone knows him. You don’t either. He’s just going to hurt you.”

“Stop acting like you’re just arguing for my own sake,” Gale says. “You’re not. You just hate the idea of someone who hurt you getting away with it.”

“Of course I do!” Virgil says. “That’s not how things should work! He shouldn’t be making friends with the people I care about!”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Virgil,” Gale says, “but people get away with things. It happens all the time. Deal with it.”

“You’re saying that so you don’t have to take responsibility for the fact that you’re letting him get away with hurting me,” Virgil says. “You want to point out logical fallacies, I can do it too. I could do this all day.”

“You’re completely ignoring the fact that he gave Pride back,” Gale says.

“Yeah, and he hurt Roman to do--”

“Oh, that’s such a tragedy,” Gale interrupts. “Yes, I can absolutely see why I should be pissed off about that. I don’t care! He hurt Roman? Poor, sweet, helpful, helpless Roman? Good!”

“You don’t mean that,” Virgil says.

“I hate Roman,” Gale says. “I hate him, I hate him so much it burns--”

“You were friends,” Virgil says, and Gale turns towards him in shock, because none of the other upper sides have shown any sign of remembering that little detail. “You were best friends, and you looked up to him just like everyone else, and he accidentally hurt you and you’re throwing a fit--”

Gale laughs, but not because anything is funny. He doesn’t know why he laughs. It feels hollow in his chest.

“Apathy hurt you on accident,” he says recklessly. “He didn’t want to hurt you, he told me all about it, about how once he kissed you it started hurting to touch anyone, how he started hating himself, how he _still_ can barely feel past it. You think you’re the only one affected by the things that hurt you?”

Virgil is quiet for a moment, and then he looks up at Gale. Gale doesn’t know how he feels right now or what he wants from Virgil. He doesn’t know what he wants.

“You’re saying he kissed me and then--”

Virgil stops, and Gale feels the way he’s beginning to hyperventilate, and doesn’t understand.

“Why are you panicking?”

“I’m not,” Virgil says.

“I can feel you panicking. Don’t lie to me.”

“I-- you’re saying he kissed me and then couldn’t-- he started being a dick to everyone because he kissed me.”

Oh.

“You didn’t corrupt him, Virgil,” Gale says, and honestly, Patton should be the one doing this, because Gale is too blunt and self-oriented to be gentle with the feelings of someone he has reasons to hate. “That’s not what--”

“Logan kissed me,” Virgil says. “He kissed me and now he’s hiding, what if he-- what if I’m just, bad and wrong and I can’t ever have--”

“Virgil, that’s--”

“I can’t ever-- I want to kiss him. I want to do it more but I don’t think I can, I can’t kiss anyone, can I, it just--”

Looking back on this later, Gale will feel incredibly embarrassed. But in the moment, he’s just fed up with Virgil’s panicking, and he can only think of one way to make it stop.

He kisses Virgil.

Bad idea, right? Gale does it anyway. Doesn’t ask, doesn’t give Virgil a chance to stop him, just leans right in and kisses him on the lips.

Back when they were dating, he imagined doing it a lot, imagined how it would feel. But now that he’s done it, Gale doesn’t really feel anything, until he realises it’s his first kiss, and then he’s just sad. Because Virgil doesn’t even want him anymore, and he’s still a little bit angry with him for never visiting even though that turned out to be Sleep’s fault. So he gave his first kiss to Virgil, while Virgil was beginning to have a panic attack, and didn’t even give him the option to say no.

Gale realises, mortified, that he probably needs to work on the whole _boundaries_ thing.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t know-- that was dumb, probably, but look, I just kissed you, and I’m fine, right? I’m okay, see?”

Virgil is gaping at him, and then his eyes rake down Gale’s body and back up, and Gale feels self-conscious about being completely transparent.

“I--” Virgil says one word and doesn’t continue. Gale begins to freak out a little bit.

“I know you’re scared but I think Logan just needs time, okay? It’s not like what happened with Apathy. Just think about it, and breathe, I can count if you need me to. And I’m really sorry for kissing you. I wasn’t-- it’s not because I’m jealous, I just wanted to show you that you don’t have some curse that makes people turn awful when you kiss them.”

“You--” Virgil seems to remember his lungs, and takes a deep breath. “You’re alright. You’re fine? You aren’t hurt or anything?”

“No, I’m not hurt,” Gale says. “You can see me, can’t you? Look. Do I look any different? Is--”

“Yeah, a lot different,” Virgil says. “You-- your light is pinkish. Are you sure--”

“I think I’m just embarrassed,” Gale interrupts. “I don’t feel like locking myself up in my room and never touching anyone again, so it’s just that I’m embarrassed. It’s seriously pink? I hate that.”

Virgil is counting silently with his fingers in the pocket of his hoodie as he breathes.

“It’s not especially pink. It’s not even that noticeable, actually, it’s just... Pinkish. A very subtle tint.”

“That’s good,” Gale says. “I-- I thought you were saying it was like, mood ring pink. And I freaked out because I really do not want to have a body that changes colour depending on my feelings, like, that would suck.”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “I... Listen, about Apathy... I know I can’t change your mind. But please be careful, and please talk to me if, um, if he’s... I’m here for you. If you want.”

“I’m being careful,” Gale says, “but sure, I’ll talk to you if he turns out to be a jerk. Thanks.”

“And...” Virgil says. He swallows, hands shaking in his pockets, and Gale has a bad feeling about what he’s going to say. “If Apathy hurt me on accident... if he got hurt too... don’t you think it hurt Roman to lose you? You were his best friend.”

Gale feels frozen, like ice.

“He should have thought about that before he took Pride,” he says.

“I’m pretty sure that was an accident, though,” Virgil says, and Gale shakes his head.

“No,” he says.

“No?”

Virgil is raising his eyebrows, and Gale hates the challenge in the gesture, hates feeling obligated to prove anything about this to anyone.

“Roman did it on purpose,” he says, voice raw like sandpaper across cuticles. “He looked me in the eyes as he reached into my chest and tore Pride out and no one else fucking remembers. He doesn’t remember me. So what if Thomas Ordered him to do it? He didn’t Order him to forget me!”

Virgil is frowning, thinking very hard.

“Oh,” he finally says. “Have you asked Deceit about it?”

Gale’s eyes widen as his train of thought skids to a halt.

“Holy shit,” he says. “No, I-- maybe Sleep will know something about--”

“Deceit woke up today,” Virgil says.

“Then I’ll ask him. Come with me?”

“Alright,” Virgil says. “I need a distraction anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment and let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3580 words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: this chapter is not being posted today due to angry_anon's recent comment on the last chapter demanding to know the location of the next chapter. in fact, i would have probably posted yesterday, but opening my inbox to that comment removed all my motivation. it's being posted today simply because today is the day i finished it.
> 
> okay!! so it's been forever, i know. in my defense, i have ADHD. also, the closer you get to the end of a story, the harder it is to write, because you have a lot more to keep track of and you have to worry about closing all the plot lines. ive been doing a lot of rereads.
> 
> also i figured out how to fit remus into this, and due to several awesome coincidences, his presence might even make sense! so he'll be in like... the last chapter.
> 
> when is the last chapter, you ask?
> 
> uh. soon. there's probably two or three more chapters in the whole story. things are going to get very intense, very quickly after this one. you're gonna get deceit's POV soon, and then apathy's. it's gonna be great. my quest to make yall care about apathy (mr _almost say the f slur in his introduction scene_ ) is nearing its end.
> 
> helga fans, youre gonna love this chapter! same with sleep fans.
> 
>  **warnings** : mention of "fucking" but nothing explicit

Gale taps on the vent cover in Sleep’s room, trying his hardest not to pay any attention to what he can hear from the other side of it.

“Hey,” he says. “We need to talk to Deceit, can we come through?”

“I’m not here,” says Deceit, sounding out of breath, and Gale rolls his eyes.

“How convenient,” he says, not meaning it at all. “Why doesn’t Roman remember me?”

There’s silence, a scuffle, and then--

“Fuckers,” Sleep proclaims. “Why-- he’s gone now, thanks a fucking million. Ugh. My boyfriend wakes up after spending almost two months passed out and you just _have_ to interrupt. I’m not-- I get it, I’m not that mad, just pissed that you chose right now. Let me get dressed.”

Gale hears the sound of someone snapping, and then the very quiet creak of the hinges on Sleep’s vent cover (his grate is nicer than everyone else’s, and Gale suspects that Fun or Pain modified it for him as consolation, because Sleep barely had time to do anything with his room before the Deep Side of the mindspace solidified.)

Gale crawls out of the vent with some difficulty, and dusts himself off.

“I thought you guys didn’t have doors,” Virgil says, and Sleep sighs.

“Yeah, I was the last Deep Side to sink, though, so my room connects to the Upper Side of the mindspace.”

“Oh,” Virgil says. “Where does the door go?”

“The basement stairs,” Sleep says. “Y’know?”

“Ah, yes, the lightbulb eaters,” Virgil says sagely, and then he snorts, presumably at the look on Gale’s face. “They don’t actually eat lightbulbs, we just call them that on the Upper Side because there’s no point changing the light on those stairs, it’ll burn out again within minutes. It’s weird.”

“Ah,” Gale says. “Anyway... Sleep, I need to ask Deceit about something.”

There’s a tense moment of silence, during which Gale wishes this conversation was happening in his room instead of Sleep’s. When Sleep does answer, Gale can tell he’s looking away.

“Dee just woke up,” he says. “He’s still very tired. I want him to have time to recover before you start bringing up things that happened years ago.”

Gale slowly nods, figuring that if he waited this long he can wait a little longer, but Virgil huffs.

“That’s ridiculous,” he says. “Gale deserves answers, don’t you think? It’s pretty fucking suspicious that R--”

“Enough, Virgil,” Gale says, realising with a flash of relief that he and Virgil probably wouldn’t have worked out long term even if Sleep had delivered Gale’s message. “He’s not denying that I deserve answers. He’s only asking me to wait until Deceit is up to giving them.”

Virgil mutters something, and Gale would bet a million bucks that he’s got his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie right now as he glares at the floor, shoulders hunched.

“What was that?” Sleep says, and Virgil sighs.

“I’m gonna go see what Logan’s up to.”

Sleep scoffs, and as Virgil walks away, he says,

“I’m surprised you weren’t with him after that lip-lock earlier tonight.”

The door opens, and Virgil says,

“Well, we can’t spend _every_ moment together.”

Sleep grumbles, and then the door shuts, and Gale hears Virgil walk a few steps up the stairs and then cuss.

“So,” Sleep says. “You and Apathy?”

“Me and Apathy what?” Gale says, playing dumb.

“I’m narrowing my eyes,” Sleep says. “Picture a suspicious expression, and then make it ugly, and that’s basically how--”

“Ugly?” Gale says, curious now. “Did you change when--”

“Nah, I was ugly already,” Sleep says.

“You know you’re calling everyone else ugly too,” Gale says, and Sleep snorts.

“Yeah, and? That’s kind of the point. Anyway, picture an ugly suspicious expression and that’s how I’m looking at you right now.”

“Well, I don’t understand why,” Gale says.

“Come _on_ , girl. He’s wearing a sweater you made him right now, isn’t he?”

Gale sighs, and snaps, manifesting a chair so he can sit.

“What’s your point?”

“No need to make a chair, I won’t be keeping you _that_ long,” Sleep says. “We’re all pairing up then, aren’t we. Logic and Anxiety, Creativity and Morality. You and Apathy. I should be _least_ annoyed about Logiety, since neither of them are murderers, but for some reason I just get so angry when I look at them.”

“Are you going to make me repeat myself?” Gale says dryly.

“My point is I just want to know. Are you and Apathy fucking?”

Gale coughs awkwardly, and shakes his head.

“No, what the fuck?”

“Do you plan to?”

“I-- what?”

Sleep sighs, and snaps. There’s a scrape against the floor, and the next time Sleep speaks, he sounds closer.

“Do you plan to fuck him? Jeez, turn that light down, I’ve got _sunglasses_ on and it’s hurting my eyes. What’s the big idea?”

Gale is overheating.

“I’m gonna punch you,” he says, without making any move to do so. “I don’t _choose_ how bright my light is, it just does whatever it wants.”

“Ayy,” Sleep says, and Gale rolls his eyes at the innuendo.

“Shut up,” he says. “It’s none of your business, and--”

“That means yes,” Sleep says. “Seriously? Dude, I can’t believe you. Were you even paying attention during middle school?”

“How is that relevant? Are you talking about sex ed? Fucking health class?”

“Haha, no way,” says Sleep. For once, his voice is serious, with no hint of drama. “This is bullshit, honestly, this is _not_ my job. You need to go talk to-- fuck, I don’t know, Morality? No, bad idea, he’ll tell you the opposite of what you need to hear. You need to talk to Logic. Tell him whatever you’ve decided about Apathy.”

“Why?” Gale asks. “I don’t--”

“For someone who’s supposed to be Pride, you’ve got a hell of a savior complex. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t have a savior complex,” Gale says.

“Whatever, you just don’t want to listen to reason,” Sleep says.

“From my perspective, you’ve invaded my privacy and told me my personal decisions are wrong, complaining the whole time about how you shouldn’t have to do it,” Gale says. “You know you _don’t_ have to, right? Nobody’s making you.”

“You look at Apathy like, like a fucking-- like, when he talks you’ve just got this _look_ on your face like he made the fucking universe, is how you look when you listen to him, I mean. Where did that come from, and what are you doing about it?”

“I’m just lending him a hand,” Gale says. “Someone has to--”

“No,” Sleep says. “It does not have to be you. Will this hurt you?”

“If it does, I’ll--”

“I just don’t _get_ it,” Sleep says. “I’m Sleep. Do you know what that means?”

“You’re in charge of sleeping,” Gale says, and Sleep scoffs.

“Yeah, sure, if you wanna oversimplify it. I’m the guy who puts things into the library. Whatever notes Memory makes during the day, I figure out what matters, transcribe it into books, and give them back.”

“Wait, why is that your job?” Gale says.

“I dunno, it’s just what I do,” Sleep says, shrugging. “I can only do it when Thomas sleeps, though, and I just can’t focus on anything well enough when he’s awake. You’ve never seen me when he’s asleep, have you.”

“I haven’t seen--” Gale starts to say, trying to think quickly of a way to turn it into a joke, and Sleep snorts and interrupts,

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’re blind. You’ve never talked to me when he’s asleep, you have no idea how much-- ugh, how much better I am then. And of course he's _not_ going to sleep tonight, since it's New Years and he'll take any excuse necessary to screw me over. Fuck."

"I do agree it's kind of horrible that he's going to stay up all night," Gale says, trying to be tactful, and Sleep heaves a sigh.

"Anyway, this is beside the point. My point is, I’ve experienced basically everything that Thomas has. And you have no idea how shitty Apathy has been to me. Like, seriously? The way he suddenly let Thomas care about what _that boy_ did to him, in the middle of finals week last year, when Thomas _already_ wasn't getting enough sleep for me to deal with the regular bullshit?”

“What are you talking about?” Gale says.

“Do you know what happened to Thomas during middle school?”

“No,” Gale says. “I don’t.”

Sleep sighs.

“It was bad,” he says. “This boy manipulated Thomas into feeling like he had to support him, so Thomas started staying up late to message him, so I don’t even-- I physically wasn’t able to transcribe everything that happened because Thomas was sleep deprived, so some of that shit is just gone. Forever. What I know for sure is-- how can you be certain Apathy is going to pull his own weight? How can you be sure he won’t just dump his trauma all over you and leave you to clean it up? Me and Anxiety both hate him still, so what makes you think you can see something neither of us saw?”

Gale frowns.

“I don’t know why he did what he did to you,” he says.

“He was angry,” Sleep says. “Obviously--”

“But I do think I can guess why he wouldn’t want to be Sleep.”

“Wow, thanks,” Sleep says, pushing his chair out with a scrape. “That’s so flattering--”

“He holds... I think Memory called it Shame a while ago,” Gale says, carefully skirting around the secret. “Which means--”

“Nightmares,” Sleep says, and he sounds pensive now. “He has a lot of negative traits, doesn’t he. Zero real work ethic, awful handwriting, Internalised Homophobia--”

“Okay, wait,” Gale says. “Two questions. How do you know about that, and why are you saying it with capitals?”

Sleep snorts.

“What do you mean, with capitals?”

“You’re saying it like it’s a name,” Gale says, a little bit horrified. “Like-- like it could be a person, like us.”

“As far as I’m concerned, it may as well be at this point,” Sleep says. “Apathy’s been feeding it, like an idiot. I thought he was going to _kill_ it, that’s the only reason I agreed to his dumb plan in the first place.”

“So you knew?” Gale says. “You knew about all of this?”

“Yup,” Sleep says. “We called it Anxiety’s Monster back then. We had it all planned out. He’d take it out of Anxiety and kill it, and I’d shove Anxiety under.”

“Wow,” Gale says.

“Seriously, though,” Sleep says. “Why do you think you know Apathy better?”

“I don't. I’m just not as invested as you think I am,” Gale lies.

There’s a pause.

“I’m narrowing my eyes at you again,” Sleep says. “You’re supposed to get uncomfortable and scramble to justify yourself.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Gale says with an innocent smile. “And I don’t scramble. I’m patient. You get bored faster than me anyway.”

“You’re right,” Sleep grumbles. “I already feel like death, whatever. So you’re leading him on? Cute, okay. Can I help?”

Gale struggles not to shoot him down immediately, because that would give him away.

He eventually says, “How would that even work? Would you say to him, _hey Apathy, guess who liiiikes you_?”

“I guess you’re right,” Sleep says. Gale hears footsteps, and then the sound of Sleep's vent cover opening. “Alright, alright, get out of here. I’m tired of this conversation.”

“As you wish,” Gale says dryly, snapping to dispell his chair.

* * *

It’s true that Gale is just a little bit tired of relying on Helga to help him get his emotions figured out. And it’s true that she doesn’t seem very willing to rely on him in return. So he wasn’t planning to ask her what she thinks about Apathy.

Until she knocks on his grate and says,

“Hey-- can I talk to you?”

For a moment, Gale is incredulous. What are the odds that three different people would come to lecture him about his stupid, ill-advised crush on Apathy in the same night?

Well, Helga isn’t actually that perceptive, so she probably hasn’t noticed Gale’s crush. This must be about something else.

“Sure,” he says. Helga climbs gracefully out of the vent and then trips on the shag carpet. She does this often. Gale is used to it. He finds it funny.

“Quit laughing,” Helga says, rolling her eyes, and Gale, who was only smiling, chuckles.

“What did you wanna talk about?”

“Memory and I are arguing,” Helga says, shoulders slumping, as she sits down on the carpet. She’s not looking at Gale when she says it. “I don’t know if I want advice, or just to be distracted, or what.”

“What would help you most?” Gale asks, and Helga looks up at him now.

She shrugs.

“They’re--” she cuts herself off, and heaves a sigh, laying back on the carpet and grabbing handfuls of the fibers. “She doesn’t get why I need to fight Deceit on this. On his whole, um, _the Deep Sides should remain hidden_ thing. Since he’s probably gonna try and block us in down here again now that he’s awake.”

“Well, of course we have to fight him about it,” Gale says. He tries to imagine being kept apart from Apathy and makes a face. He’d survive, but he’d be annoyed as fuck about it. “Why does he even want to do that, anyway?”

Helga shrugs.

“Probably because you and I would fuck Roman up big time if we could, and Roman is... well, you know.”

Gale wrinkles his nose. He knows. It’s just like how Virgil and Patton can work well together, because there’s no power relationship between them. The same goes for Logan and Apathy, and that just leaves Deceit and Roman. 

“I don’t think Deceit likes Roman either,” Gale says.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they can just let him get... intimidated, or whatever they think we’d do to him.”

“I guess not,” Gale agrees. “I... But honestly, what can we do, if Deceit tries to block things up again?”

“I can get to his room,” Helga says. “And you can get to mine. So we can just bother him relentlessly until he lets us talk to the Upper Sides again.”

“You think that’ll work?” Gale says. “It’s a threat, and that’s not like, logical. At all. Maybe we should just convince him we won’t fuck with Roman.”

“He can detect lies,” Helga says, waving her hand dismissively. “That won’t work, since you and I both know we probably would. Hey, why do you wanna still talk to the Upper Sides so bad anyway? Don’t most of them love Roman’s pants off?”

Gale hesitates.

Helga raises an eyebrow.

“You’re... turning pinkish,” she says, and Gale sighs.

“It’s Apathy,” he says. “I...” he trails off, but from the expression he can feel on Helga’s face, he knows he doesn’t have to explain.

“So you don’t like me,” Helga says, and she sounds so relieved that Gale actually thinks she’s serious for a moment. He laughs.

“No, what? Nice one, Helga--”

“I’m not joking,” she says quietly, and Gale stops short, shocked. “I... You know? How guys... they think friendship is just shallow companionship, so you have to be careful who you talk to about important things...”

“Yeah, I know,” Gale says, nodding, thinking about how many times Thomas has tried to open up to a straight “friend” and been rebuffed-- _I’m not gay_ is something Thomas hears a _lot_ , and every single time it’s like-- like-- _I **know** , okay, I know you’re not gay, but I thought you were a human person with emotions like me and I thought we were **friends**_. It hurts, and if it had happened while Gale was still settling in down here, he might have actually died. “I’m not going to do that to you, I’m not going to interpret this... emotional openness as something romantic. I... Helga, I lean on you a lot and I’m grateful I can do that. I’d be honoured if you felt you could lean on me too.”

Helga smiles, and Gale has to smile too.

“I thought you were holding back because you didn’t trust me,” Gale says, “or because you thought I had enough to deal with, being blind and all...” he blinks and realises he’s crying. “I’m glad it’s not any of that. But seriously, Helga, I’m gay.”

Helga is silent for a moment.

“I know,” she finally says, and her voice is unstable. “I know, but I wasn’t sure...” She blinks, and Gale is startled to realise that she’s crying as well. She wipes her eyes, and sniffles. “I wasn’t sure you really saw me as... as a woman.”

Gale’s jaw drops.

“It would be hard not to see you as a woman,” he says. “Since that’s what you are.”

Helga sniffles again, deeper this time, and covers her face.

“Am I?” she says, and Gale gets the feeling that she’s never voiced this insecurity before. “Thomas isn’t, and I’m part of him, and I-- maybe I just think I have to be a woman because Thomas still feels like the feminine parts of him... like... like maybe Thomas just thinks I _must_ be a woman because I can’t be a man.”

“Has traditional femininity been one of your traits this whole time and I just didn’t notice?” Gale says dryly. “Helga, you’re ambitious and self-motivated. That’s _definitely_ not something Thomas would apply to a female side just to distance himself from something he felt he couldn’t assimilate into his masculine identity. If there’s a reason you feel like a woman, I think it’s just because... well, just _because_.”

Helga nods, and lets out a choked sobbing sound.

“But I-- I don’t experience oppression the way real women do, I don’t-- like-- I have no idea what it’s like to be raised female, you know?” Gale wrinkles his nose, but lets her finish. “I don’t know what it’s like to be rejected for a position for being a woman, because Thomas is a man. Can I call myself female without the full, like... female experience?”

“There’s not really a single female experience,” Gale says. “I’m pretty sure that the ‘female experience’ is just experiencing life as someone who would call themself a woman, and that’s what you are, right? Every woman has different experiences. And... and oppression shouldn’t be an inherent part of that experience. It shouldn’t be a requirement. If womanhood were dependent on that, it’d fall apart as soon as you got equality.”

Helga frowns, but soon her expression smooths out.

“That makes sense,” she says. “I-- I don’t know, it’s silly, I’ve been worrying about this for a while...”

Gale feels a twinge in his heart, and Helga’s eyebrows raise.

“What is it?” he asks. She swallows.

“You... you dimmed a bit. I’m sorry.”

“No, thank you,” Gale says. “I really am glad to be able to help you with stuff like this. I think... I think it’s good for me. To care about people.”

“Then... thank you,” Helga says. “Could...” she bites her lip nervously. “Could I have a hug?”

Gale jumps up and nods, opening his arms, and Helga smiles as she stands and comes over to him.

The hug is warm. It feels safe. It reminds Gale of how it felt to get Pride back.

“I’m really glad to know you, Helga,” Gale says, and he hears and feels her sob. She holds on tighter.

“I’m glad I know you too,” she says. She pulls back and smiles. It’s contagious. Gale smiles too. “So... you and Apathy?”

Gale starts to get nervous.

“Are you about to tell me this is a bad idea?”

Helga shrugs.

“I don’t really know him. He sure seemed smitten with you back on Christmas, though, his whole face was pink.”

Gale’s lips part, and then he feels his chest heating up and he says,

“I’m turning pink again, aren’t I.”

“Yeah,” Helga says. Gale heaves a sigh and flops down on the beanbag chair that Virgil left in here.

“Do you think it’s a good idea? Me and Apathy, I mean.”

Helga makes a face as she thinks.

“I think it could work,” she says. “I could tell just by looking that he likes you, but he also seemed terrified of you. Like you made him afraid of himself. It depends on you two, honestly. It won’t happen unless he decides he wants it to.”

Gale nods slowly.

“I’ll have to be careful, then,” he says. “If I confront it now, I bet he’ll just deny it. Ugh, and I still have to figure out what to do about...” he trails off.

“What to do about what?” Helga asks.

“I can’t tell you that,” Gale says. 

“Well, that’s okay,” Helga says. “Anyway, about Deceit, let’s try to meet in the kitchen tomorrow morning, and if that doesn’t work, we can go yell at him together.”

“Sounds good,” Gale says. "And... thanks. For letting me help you with something."

"Yeah, I'm glad I can finally quit worrying about that," Helga says, with a genuine smile. "I'm gonna head out. Goodnight, Gale."

"Goodnight, Helga."

Of course, since it's New Years Eve, Gale knows that saying goodnight is just a formality, but there's nothing wrong with having hope that maybe this year Thomas won't try to stay up all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any comments i get will make the next chapter come exponentially sooner! unless you're just telling me to update without saying _why_ you want me to.

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on [tumblr](coralflower-ao3.tumblr.com)
> 
> also PLEASE comment uwu! i dont care how silly or random, if you have something to say or this fic made you have an emotion, please tell me about it! i love all feedback so please dont be self conscious
> 
> reblog [this tumblr post](https://coralflower-ao3.tumblr.com/post/179917967166/lying-close-to-you-an-analogical-and-sleepceit) or [this tweet](https://twitter.com/coralflower_ao3/status/1062176241334259712?s=19) to share this fic with friends!


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